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ZIM WAS DELIGHTt'.D WITH THE BEAUTY OF THE PLACE. 



Variety Tales 


Examples of Kinds of Short Stories. 


By 

B. C. WILLIAMS. 




Cincinnati : 

Press of Jennings and Graham, 

1905. 



1.^0 Gopies rteikJiv«.s 

SEP. 13 ia05 

^ - Oop.vrigni jiuir'ii 

VI- - o<r 

ou A?^' . 

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Copyright, 1905, 
By B. C. Williams. 


All Rights Reserved. 





!L- 

'. ■ 

Li.-: 

■ 







C O N T E N T 


I. SI.UMBER Song — A Poem, 7 

II. A Nest — A Story of Children and Birds, 9 

III. A IvAND OF Content — A Moral Story, ... 15 

IV. The Disappearance of Blfinnis — A 

Detective Story, 22 

V. The Ghost of the Marble Face — A Ghost 

Story, 28 

VI. Something Missing — A Humorous New 

Kngland Story, 33 

VII. Miraculous Happenings — A Cyclone Story, 42 

VHI. Tony and Fluffy — A Fable, 45 

IX. Fate or Prophecy — A Horror Story, ... 50 

X. A Colonial Fairy Story, 57 

XI. A Child of Music— A Boarding-school 

Story, 64 

XH. A Trial at Entertaining — A Dramatic 

Story, 71 

XHI. Mrs. Asborn the Village Gossip — A Dialect 

AND Burlesque Story, 77 

XIV. When the Ways are Three — An Allegory, 82 
XV. Shuffling Along — A Character Sketch, . 87 

XVI. Caught by the Sea — A Dove Story, ... 92 

XVII. The Adventures of Zim — An Adventure 

Story, 99 

XVHI. Double Editing — A Decided Plot, .... 107 
XIX. Only an Easter Egg — A Religious Story, 114 
XX. A Business Enterprise — A True Com- 
mercial Story, 124 

XXI. Slumber-Land — A Description, 132 

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SLUMBER. LAND. 


Little baby slumbers long, 

Dreams perhaps of mother’s song ; 
Hears the flowers talking low ; 
Hears the stories, how below 
Flowers dance at midnight dark 
In the woods and in the park. 

Little baby lies asleep, 

Dreaming? Yes, of mother, deep 
In that happy slumber-land ; 

There she sees an angel band. 
Hears the music softly sound. 
Dreams of flowers all around. 

Flowers red and flowers light. 

Like a rainbow, O so bright ! 

But good-night the sweet stars say. 
While we whisper our good-day ; 
Sleeping lies our baby sweet. 
Dreaming where the angels meet. 

7 


VARIETY TALES. 

A NEST. 

A Story ot Chii^drejn and Birds. 

It was the prettiest kind of a home, way up in 
the old apple-tree, and the proud mother chirped 
sweetly at having such a fair place to live in. Not 
one of the more beautiful singers of the air could 
surpass her in joy, although they could excel her 
in song. 

She was only a small, plain sparrow, but never- 
theless she loved life as well as her richer-plumed 
friends. To-day she worked busily, making her 
home pleasanter. Now and then she glanced into 
the distance as if watching for some one. 

Beneath the tree sat a little girl watching the 
dainty, busy creatures ; but her heart trembled with 
fear when she thought what might happen if Tom, 
her brother, who disliked sparrows, should see the 
little sparrow. 

As she sat watching, she saw the father bird 
return to his nest, and she felt she could almost 
understand the joyful welcome the mother bird gave 
9 


Variety Taees. 


io 

him. So great seemed the father bird's joy that 
he poured it forth in a low, sweet song, which was 
caught up by many other birds. Dorothy sat very 
still for a long time, listening to the song, and then, 
fearing to disturb their pleasure, she stole away on 
tiptoe. 

When, some days later, Dorothy stood below 
the tree, she discovered that a little band of stran- 
gers had come into this small home. Eight bright 
eyes opened, catching a glimpse of the same sun- 
light that she was enjoying. Dorothy felt she knew 
just what the mother bird was saying, and felt sure 
that her own mother would have said the same. 

‘'She is telling me," thought Dorothy, “to look 
at her dear ones, and see what beautiful little crea- 
tures have come to her tiny nest." 

“Ah, how busy I am !" thought the songster. 
“But how pleasant to be busy when it is to feed these 
small mouths and hear their sweet welcome to us !" 

Life was full of happiness for the sparrow fam- 
ily, until one day the father bird returned home with 
a sad story, and fear filled the mother's heart. A 
stone had but narrowly escaped hitting him, and he 
knew that some day one might strike him and leave 
his loved family alone. 

Days full of golden hours glided by for the occu- 
pants of the nest. 

One day the mother's heart grew cold with fear, 
for the father had not returned. Bravely the mother 
fed her babies as best she could, and when evening 
came she told her sad story of how she feared their 


A Ni:st. 


11 


father had gone away, and she asked God, who cares 
for even poor sparrows, to keep guard over them. 

‘‘1 will get you food, little ones; now be good 
till I return.’’ And she flew away, a sad heart beat- 
ing beneath the soft, smooth feathers. 

Suddenly she saw a small boy, a handsome lad, 
and in his hand he held a limp, lifeless little being. 
Only that morning the tiny, bleeding form had been 
full of life and joy, and made the air sweet with its 
happy voice. Now, cold and still in the child’s hand 
it lay, and the mother’s heart broke, for it was the 
father of her hungry children. 

She fed the wee ones and planned soon to teach 
them to fly, that they might be able to feed them- 
selves if anything happened to her. 

Now Dorothy’s mother lay very ill, and Tom did 
not feel so lively, even though, as he expressed it, 
when thinking of his success of the day before, he 
had made a dead easy shot and killed the poor little 
sparrow. Dot, who had not heard of yesterday’s 
shot, thought he spoke of the poor bird he had killed 
just five days before when she had seen him hold- 
ing its lifeless, bleeding form. 

“Sparrows ain’t any good,” said he. 

“O brother!” sobbed Dorothy, “that one you 
killed, five days ago to-day, was the father bird, and 
the mother is left all alone to feed the little ones. 
In her chirping the other morning, there was such 
a sad note; she wants the father. If papa died, I 
do n’t believe I could stand it. I’m too small to 
work, and unless mother was here to care for me 


12 


Variety TaeES. 


I do n't know what would happen to me. Now the 
papa bird is dead, if — if some one kills the mother, 
then those darling babies must die too. Would you 
like to be shot or have father shot ?" 

Tom's face grew sober. At heart, he was only 
careless, not purposely cruel, but simply thought- 
less, and so eleven-year-old Tom said : 

‘'Sister, I never thought of them as having feel- 
ings before, or loving their children as mother does 
us. I did not think they liked to live as we do, — 
but of course they do; and if it came down to it, I 
would not enjoy being shot, — it must cause lots of 
pain and make one suffer so. I guess in their way 
they are as joyful as we." 

A silence followed ; then — 

“Dot—" 

There was another pause. 

“Yes, Tom." 

In a trembling but manly voice, Tom said : 

“Dot, I killed the mother bird three days after 
I did the father." 

There was silence, and Dot began to cry. Tom 
did not call her cry-baby, as he usually did, for he 
was now gravely thoughtful. Already he was at 
heart a grand man. Such a man as not only loved 
life and joy, but longed to be good to all poor dumb 
creatures, who can only tell us their happiness and 
love by being fair to see or singing sweetly to help 
make the world brighter and better. Every boy 
wants to be a man. A true, noble man protects the 
weak — those unable to protect themselves. Tom was 


A Ne:st. 


13 


a strong-hearted boy, and he said in a ringing voice, 
with just a slight quiver: 

tell you. Dot, let 's find the lonely birdies and 
feed them ; that is all I can do now. I used to call 
you a foolish, tender-hearted girl. You are good- 
hearted ; but I do n’t think it silly for you or unmanly 
for me, because, as mother said, I ’m getting to be 
a big boy and soon will be a man, so I must grow 
to be a kind one, caring for the weak and loving the 
tiny beings that — ” 

'^God has given to make the world fairer and to 
teach us many a lesson,” said Dot. ^'1 remember 
mother’s exact words, they were so sweet.” 

Now mother was ill, and a terrible thought came 
into Tom’s heart. If she died, his beautiful, sweet 
mother ! He knew now that, although the birds can 
not talk in our language, in their wee, piping tones 
they must be pitifully calling for their mother, as he 
would if his mother went up to God’s home. 

His heart ached, and he laid his head on his arm 
and sobbed aloud, for that very day the doctor had 
said there was little chance of her recovery. Then, 
raising his head, he said : 

‘T guess it do n’t hurt a man to show his feelings 
sometimes, does it?” 

Dot put her hand on his and answered : ^Tndeed 
no ; it shows you have a good, manly heart.” 

They went to the nest to feed the young ones, 
but the dying cries of the baby birds had grown 
faint. The fledglings, deprived of mother, father, 
and food, had laid their poor little starved selves 


14 


Varie:ty Tal,i^s, 


down to die. As Tom gazed at them, the last one, 
with its tiny mouth open as if for the long-watched- 
for food, uttering a feeble cry, that sounded to Tom 
like ‘‘Mother, mother,’' lay cold and still. 

“O Dot, if our mother should die, I can never 
forget that bird’s cry !” 

As she began to sob he said : “Do n’t cry. Dot. 
Mamma can’t die ! O she can’t !” 

A prayer went up from both the children’s hearts, 
and God, in His goodness, left them their mother. 

Tom, playing marbles with the boys in the yard, 
as he saw his mother strong and well, going about 
her work in the house, remembered the birds he had 
deprived of their mother, and, stopping in his play, 
he stood up to his full height and spoke to his 
friends : 

“Boys, it will be a long time before I ’ll be a 
man, but, I tell you what ! I ’m going to begin 
now to stand up for the smaller, more helpless 
beings, — the birds !” 

“We will join you, Tom, and help care for the 
birds,” cried one of the boys. 

The others answered with a hearty cheer, and 
a little bird began to sing as if it understood their 
words, which were to help make life so happy for 
them. 


THE LAND OF CONTENT. 


A Morai. Story. 

“Thi; world is so big and so dark, mother, I 
wonder if there are no flowers or sunshine for me?’' 

The speaker was a small, deformed girl of four- 
teen. Her large, brown eyes were beautiful but for 
a vacant expression, for to her all was dark; she 
had not seen the daylight for three long years. 

'‘Sometimes I think, mother dear, that if I had 
never seen the sunlight I might not miss it so !” 

The mother looked longingly, tenderly, at her 
daughter, but her heart was too full for speech. 

"Why had I that long, long illness, that crippled 
my body and closed my eyes? Why, O why do I 
live like this, a burden to all ?” 

Then lovingly the mother placed her hand on 
the brown head. 

"Little one, you are all I have, and my joy in 
life is to wait on you. Even so crippled you can 
lighten my burdens by your dear presence near me ; 
indeed, you make life worth the living. How selfish 
we would grow, my child, if there were none who 
needed our care and watchful love !” 

"But it is all give for you, mother, and all take 
for me.” 

"It is a joy to do for you, only I wish I could 


i6 


Variety Tai,i:s. 


bring smiles to your face, for my heart aches for 
you,’’ and with a tender kiss she left her. 

Ferel sat a long while thinking of all her mother 
had said, and longing for — she knew not what. 

Suddenly before the girl came a light so beautiful 
she felt dazed by its brightness, and she put her 
hands to her eyes with a cry. 

‘'I see, I see ! O, I am not blind !” she cried. 

“You see, Ferel, with your mind only; now let 
me teach you to see with your heart.” 

“Then I am blind, blind!” she cried to the fair 
woman by her side. “Yet I see you in your bright, 
sunshine gown.” 

“I am a being from Content Land, and some- 
times I come when called. Did you not ask how you 
could be of help, and did you not say you received 
all and gave nothing? Come with me, and be for 
a space strong and well, and I will show you the 
Land of Content.” 

So she arose, and stood straight, with seeing eyes, 
and followed the dainty stranger. 

The path was hard and tiresome, and, bruised 
and weary, she ever struggled onward after her 
Guide. When they reached the top of the mountain 
she saw a strange sight. Many men were digging 
deep holes in the ground, and taking from them 
great rocks. The rocks they covered with dirt, and 
planted seeds therein; and, behold, they were soon 
covered with green moss and flowers. The men 
were so small, and the rocks so large and heavy, 
that Ferel wondered how they could lift them. 


The: Land Content: 


17 


''What are they doing?” she asked. 

"They are lifting the burdens of other people,” 
answered her companion, "and planting beautiful 
things in their lives and hearts instead. Every rock 
is a burden lifted for some poor, sorrowing soul. 
They can tell every time, after they have planted a 
seed of content, whether it has taken root and is 
growing, by the way the green moss and flowers 
cover the rock.” 

"Your rock is well covered, but some seem bar- 
ren still,” said Ferel. "Will they ever be as beau- 
tiful as this?” and she pointed to a rock covered 
with the most beautiful moss and flowers. 

The Guide said: "We hope they will be as fair, 
but some have greater burdens to withstand.” 

"Has every one a stone here ?” 

"Yes, every one,” said she. "Yonder is yours.” 

As Ferel looked, she beheld a huge rock covered 
with rich earth, but barren of moss or flowers. 

"My rock is not beautiful ; O ! it is barren ! But, 
then, so is my life barren of all joy; for am I not 
a cripple and blind?” 

"You are indeed blind. Many are born so, but 
you have seen beauty, and, like one who has once 
seen and heard a wonderful opera, you have the 
memory to sweeten your dark hours. Forget your- 
self, and live for your mother and others.” 

"I can not; I am only a burden,” she moaned. 

"Go farther, child, and you will understand.” 

So she followed the Guide, and, behold, she 
came to a large lake on the top of this lofty moun- 


2 


i8 


Variety Taees. 


tain. It was black and very dirty, but men were 
busy dipping cupful after cupful from it, and sepa- 
rating the thick mud from the water. When they 
had succeeded, as sometimes they did, the cleared 
water was cast into what appeared a great well. 

'‘It is so black it can never be made clear,’’ 
sighed Ferel. 

"Look into the well, and see the lovely water of 
Content Land, where one can drink and be re- 
freshed,” answered her friend. 

So Ferel leaned over the side of the well, and 
gazed into water which was as clear as crystal. 

The Guide said, "Drink.” 

Then from a golden goblet she tasted the refresh- 
ing water, and she felt strangely glad that she was 
alive; a feeling of supreme joy pervaded her whole 
being. 

"How deep is the well?” she asked. "Can many 
partake of its water ?” 

"It has no bottom, and is ever being refilled,” 
answered her companion. "All can drink who will, 
and be filled with the peace that is of heaven.” 

"These men are strong and well,” she said, sadly. 
"They can do for others, as mother does, but not I.” 

Then, behold, a great change came before her 
eyes. The men were still there, the lake, the moun- 
tain, and the well, but such sad-looking men, if 
physical suffering is sad; and, indeed, it fills one’s 
heart with pain for the sufferer. Some had no 
limbs, and lay on beds of straw, wearily trying to 
lift the goblet of dark water and separate the mud 


Thk Land Contejn^ 19 

from the water. Some, the Guide told her, had no 
friends or home, and but little earthly wealth; but 
they, too, worked patiently with the water. Others 
were blind like herself, and some poor as well. 

Ah ! no one can imagine the suffering she saw ! 

She turned a face full of sorrow to her Guide, 
and in answer to her mute question she said : 

''Gaze upon their faces.’’ 

Behold, as she did so she noticed that a strange 
look of joy was in each and every one, — a light so 
beautiful in some faces that she marveled at its 
glory. 

"How can they look so happy when they are suf- 
fering so ?” she asked. 

"They endure physical suffering, and did suffer 
mentally; but they gave so much of their love and 
sweet patience and gentle words, that it makes about 
them the sunshine you see ; and all who come in con- 
tact with them feel it, and carry away a share of its 
brightness within their hearts. Now, you must de- 
part; you are blind and crippled still ; for your sight 
here, and your strength, were only the blessings 
which people often find when visiting me. You for- 
got, to a certain extent, your pain in looking and 
sharing that of others here.” 

Then Ferel awoke, for she had been dreaming; 
but the peace was still in her heart. Days past, and 
years, and Ferel still lived in the pretty little cottage 
with her mother. Friends flocked in often to see 
her, and her mother’s face appeared less careworn. 


20 


Varie^ty Tai^es. 


while a smile and a song were often heard as she 
busied herself about her work. 

‘‘The days are so short, mother dear,'' said Ferel, 
“and yet so bright that I feel as if it were all sun- 
shine out of doors. I remember how bright it used 
to seem to me when, as a child, I used to close my 
eyes to shut out so much glory, it dazzled me. I 
made a mistake; I should have taken it all in, and 
stored a share for future use to scatter over all the 
world when the storms beat in all their fury." 

“I am richer than a king," laughed the mother. 
“I have sunshine all the year round ; shadows flit 
across my vision now and then, but soon peace reigns 
in my heart, and I can say ‘God's will be done,' and 
see the sunshine drive away the gloom." 

That night Ferel slept and dreamed she saw be- 
fore her the top of a huge mountain, and heard the 
voice of her Guide : 

“Put it in the center, men; there let it rest. I 
would that the whole world could see it." 

A great rock stood towering towards the sky, 
but such a beautiful rock, covered with a rich, 
green moss, thick with lilies pure as fresh-fallen 
snow. Then before her she saw a glass of pure 
water, clear as crystal, and the one who held it 
smiled in joy, and the whole place seemed covered 
with a golden cloud, and faded from view. 

Ferel cried out in supreme joy: “Is it true, O 
Guide, that my name is written there in your Land 
of Content, where peace and happiness fill the heart 
and soul? I, a cripple and blind! — I, who can not 


Th^ Land oi^ Content* 


21 


walk or run about, and can not feel or see, except in 
my heart, the joys or beauties of this lovely world ! — 
is it true, O Guide, that content and peace are 
mine 

A voice from the cloud was carried in the great 
arms of a mighty wind, and, like sweet music, it fell 
on the heart of the listener. 

The voice said, “It is true.'’ 


THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ELFINNIS. 


A De:te:ctivi: Story. 

Fairyland was excited; the good queen wept, 
and the detectives worked; for Elfinnis, the dark- 
haired fairy child, who was, some day, to be queen 
of Fairyland, had disappeared. 

In the early morning, Elfinnis had been seen 
making a wreath of -sweet-clover blossoms ; a little 
later, she had been seen paddling in the river. Since 
then, no one had beheld her. 

As far as Enis, the chief of the detective force, 
could discover, the child when last seen was dressed 
much like any other little one of the kingdom. 

‘We always dress her plainly in the morning, so 
that she can play in the dust and dirt as other chil- 
dren do. We think it will make her strong and 
healthy,’’ explained the queen. 

After close inquiry, Enis learned that the child’s 
heavy braids of hair had been tied with twisted gold 
ribbons, which, as a mark of royalty, she always 
wore. The ribbons were exactly alike. 

Later, when the river was searched, Enis came 
with haste to the palace, holding in his hand a golden 
cord. At sight of the cord, the queen wept bitterly 
and declared the child must have been drowned. 

‘T doubt it,” said Enis; at which remark the 
other detectives shrugged their shoulders. “You all 


22 


The: Disappejarance: or ElRinnis. 23 

believe that she is lost. To be sure we found her 
stockings in the river; but still that is no proof of 
the child’s having been drowned. First let me ask 
my royal queen a question. Were the golden cords 
exactly the same?” At a reply in the affirmative, 
Enis said : 

“Well, here is the other cord ; but if you examine 
it closely, you will find that the initial E is not woven 
in the center of the ribbon; otherwise they are ex- 
actly the same.” 

The ladies declared that E had been on both 
ribbons. 

“There is something underneath this mystery, 
and I, for one, believe the dark-haired princess 
lives.” 

That night the dwarf Enis dressed himself in 
the common suit of the elves. Being extremely 
small, he would have passed as an elf rather than 
a dwarf, almost anywhere, in that suit. 

After dusk he went down by the river, and waited 
until he heard the shrill whistle of the elf-band. 
At dusk the elves enjoy a wild, weird dance in the 
most dense part of the forest, and it was this festive 
entertainment that Enis had come to join. When 
a jolly, brown-coated elf, named Fin, punched Enis 
in the back, and afterwards offered him a green- 
water lemonade, he felt that his disguise was com- 
plete. After the dance he placed himself by Fin, 
and laughingly asked him if the foolish fairies had 
even a slight idea of their (the elves’) success in 
stealing Elfinnis. 


24 


Varie:ty Tai^es. 


''Are you sure we did it?'' asked the elf, at once 
suspicious. 

"Sure? Why was it not my cousin that helped 
you do it?" asked Enis. 

Now that he had ventured on such dangerous 
ground, he felt he must continue to pretend knowl- 
edge of what, in truth, he knew nothing about. 

"Ah! your cousin Keny?" asked the elf. 

Enis may not have been as quick-footed as a real 
elf, but in keenness of wit a fairy dwarf can not be 
surpassed by the elves. He saw by a quick glance 
at the elf’s face that Keny was a fictitious name, and 
he judged he had met for once his equal in an elf. 

"By no means, for no such elf exists," Enis an- 
swered. 

"Forgive me," said the elf. "I have to watch 
lest by any chance the fairies learn of the real where- 
abouts of Elfinnis." 

Enis now felt sure of his point, but he dared not 
ask more questions. 

The next morning, Enis spoke to no one of his 
evening's experience, but he took a lunch and walked 
over to Thought, a village some ten miles from the 
Palace of Wonders, where the royal family dwelt. 
He arrived there in the evening, and stopped to chat 
with a round-faced fairy peasant. She was a pretty, 
talkative fairy, and Enis was not long learning that, 
the evening before, a dark-haired boy, dressed like 
an elf, but with sea-blue eyes and the form of a 
fairy prince, had passed by. 

"He must have wandered from elf-land, for his 


The: Disappe:arance: op EpPinnis. 25 

companion was an evil-looking elf ; but some time 
the boy must have had a fairy bestow gifts on him, 
for kinder manners and softer, more soothing voice 
a royal fairy never possessed. They passed up yon- 
der street, going north, I should think towards Rea- 
son. The wicked big elf pulled out a lock of my 
hair as thanks for a glass of clear water I gave 
him.’’ 

“Remember,” said Enis, “that there is but one 
dark-haired being that we have ever heard of; in 
elf-land or fairy-land there is no other: that one is 
our future queen, Elhnnis.” 

Then the girl wept. “My brain is thick-skinned,” 
she said. “Even dressed as a youth I might have 
known her sweet ways and soft voice. Let me aid 
you on your return to the court, and pray tell the 
detectives there that I saw Elhnnis pass by here.” 

“You jump at conclusions very quickly,” he said, 
and taking the offered lunch he went on his way. 

When he had reached the woods, he took a side 
path for Reason. Following the clews he got there, 
which were in line with what he had heard at 
Thought, he spent many days journeying from Rea- 
son to Clear Judgment, Skillful Station, Work 
Town, and came three weeks later to the fairy 
queen’s winter home, a large city called Conclu- 
sion. 

In Conclusion, Enis dug a deep hole beside a 
large oak-tree, and in the evening he came and sat 
down by the side of it, attired in the same elf suit 
he had worn before when with the elves. At dusk 


26 


Variety Taees. 


he heard the approach of the elves. As they 
emerged from the door in the tree that leads them 
from their under world, one after another stumbled 
into the ditch he had dug. As one got to his feet, 
another fell in and threw him down again. This 
caused great commotion, and angry words and blows 
fell thick and fast. As one after the other, warned 
by the angry cries of their fellow elves, or else 
thinking there had broken forth a war, which elves 
always enjoy, fell into the deep hole, the keen eyes 
of Enis watched for the slight form of an elf who 
might be Elfinnis. 

‘'Keep back,’’ said an elf, whose wicked face 
showed even more hideous in the light of the moon 
which had just risen on high. 

Before the tiny elf could do as he was bidden, 
Enis reached one long arm out and lifted the boy 
high into the air. He then whistled for a fairy bird, 
and journeyed homeward with what he believed was 
Elfinnis. 

As he neared the river where the ribbons had 
been found he heard the sound of a cry, and going 
into a thicket near by he found a child so similar in 
looks to the boy that he was startled. 

“Who is who ?” he questioned in a puzzled voice, 
and an elf answered him. 

“The little girl asleep here is the real fairy prin- 
cess. I pray you please give back our boy you stole 
in Conclusion. You did not know we had a dark- 
haired child, but this lad is our future king.” 

Enis was a wise man, and had not been in the 


The: Disappe:arance: op EivPinnis. 27 

detective business for so long a time to be cheated 
now of his honors in fathoming the greatest de- 
tective case in fairy-land, the finding of the fairy, 
Elfinnis. So he bade the angry elf wait, and he car- 
ried both children to the palace, and let the queen 
mother choose her own; then he gave the other to 
the elf. 

‘T knew my clues were good ones,’’ said the 
dwarf Enis, “and, friends, I knew that Elfinnis the 
child, dressed as a boy, that I found in Conclusion, 
was our future queen, and the other ribbon she had 
dropped in the house before she was lost.’' 


THE GHOST OF THE MARBLE FACE. 


A Ghost Story. 

''Ghosts, how foolish \” Mr. Adams laughed in 
scorn at the ignorance of the village people, and he 
looked again at the little old gabled house before 
him. 

It had the aspect of a place deserted. Certainly, 
of late years, the gods of prosperity and beauty had 
forsaken this dwelling. Weeds almost as high as a 
man’s head surrounded the place, while here and 
there a sunflower raised his bright head as if to mock 
the loneliness of this secluded home, and cast a ray 
of light amid the shadows and cobwebs on its dirty, 
unpainted roof. Except for spiders here and there 
in the windows, no living thing dwelt there. 

"Would I live there?” he answered to a ques- 
tion from his companion. "Indeed, I would not 
mind doing so. I have a clear conscience, and fear 
nothing in this forsaken place.” 

That night Mr. Adams determined to prove his 
statement, and he announced to an astonished land- 
lord that he wished to rent the gabled house if the 
price was not too high. He need not have feared 
about the price, for the man was only too willing 
to rent the forsaken place at any price. 

So on a Friday, amid the dismayed faces of his 
friends, he moved into his bachelor quarters, for his 
28 


The: Ghost oi^ the: Marbi^e: Face:. 29 

friends refused to accompany him. They had heard 
too many stories of the man with the marble face, 
who was said to haunt the rooms of the house. 

It was said that the man who died there had com- 
mitted some theft, and his ghost wished to put the 
hidden treasure into a human hand to be delivered 
to its owner, whose name must be hidden with the 
stolen property. People differed as to what was 
the article stolen. 

This ghost had a marble-white face, that had 
caused many a person who gazed upon it to lose his 
mind. On close inquiry, Mr. Adams found that 
exactly one man, never of sound mind, had gone 
into the house, and came out with wild, insane stories 
of the things he had seen. He claimed the ghost 
loved the treasure still, and might not want to part 
with it at the last moment. 

So Mr. Adams moved in, and made the old 
rattle-trap as comfortable as possible. He retired 
at dusk, amused beyond words at the quiet, peace- 
ful first day he had spent without a sign of a ghost. 

Suddenly, as he was about to sink into slumber, 
he heard a queer, clicking noise, such as a man 
makes when he is trying to draw the attention of a 
squirrel. He opened his eyes and sat up in bed. 

The moonlight reflected into the upright mirror 
he had brought with him, and in it, as plain as day, 
he saw a face. It was a terrible face, — white, cold, 
and expressionless; indeed, it was a marble face! 
Despite his boast, cold drops of perspiration stood 
on his brow. 


30 


Varie:ty Tai,es. 


As he put one foot out of bed, the figure turned 
and advanced towards him. He sat as if he was 
carved in marble. 

A bony hand, as white and ghastly as the face, 
was held towards him, and cold chills ran races up 
and down his back. The deep-sunken eyes of the 
white, ghostly figure held him spellbound, and as 
it turned, beckoning him with one finger, he arose 
and followed, as if that awful, white object drew 
him, with a chain he could not loosen, after it. 

‘'The marble face,” for such he had ever heard 
the ghost called, opened a door which Mr. Adams 
had noticed the day before, and discovered that it 
led into a cellar. Following in his wake, unable to 
do otherwise, he passed with the ghost into the 
cellar. 

Then he pointed to a pick, which, lying in the 
dusty, cobwebbed corner of the musty cellar, Mr. 
Adams had not noticed before. 

“Dig,” the ghost said. “Dig.” 

Jack Adams’s heart seemed to stop beating; for 
alone in the darkness, with no light but the white 
form and a dim streak through the dirty cellar win- 
dow from the bright moon, that voice seemed 
brought from the bottomless pit of the region called 
Horror. 

Jack dug in the dirt-bottom of a corner of the 
cellar, and, when he would try to rest for a moment, 
that white face had but to draw near, its cold breath 
to fall like winter’s coldest blast on his neck, and he 
worked on with perspiration streaming down his 
face like rain, 


Th^ Ghost ot th^ Marbi,^ Face:. 31 

When he had dug for a long time, he began to 
feel something hard beneath his pick, and, behold, 
in time, he found what seemed to be a brass box. 
He held it up to the moonlight from the window, 
and aimed to open it. 

'‘It ’s mine ! I stole it ; but it 's mine ! I lived 
for it ; I died for it ; Hm suffering for it ; but, human 
form, I tell you it ’s mine, now and forever !’' 

The unearthly shriek rose high on the air; the 
long, bony arm stretched forth towards Jack; the 
marble face of the ghost was marble come to life; 
the sunken eyes burned his very body with their 
gaze! There, in the darkness. Jack Adams fought 
not for the box, but for life ! 

Suddenly he saw his chance to escape, and, evad- 
ing the cold, clammy hand, he stumbled blindly up 
the cellar stairs. As he reached the top, he thought 
the ghost ceased to follow him. Turning in his un- 
manly flight, he saw framed in the doorway of the 
cellar, close to his side, once more the expressionless 
marble face ! 

When Jack came to himself, the sunlight 
streamed into the window of his room, and he sat in 
a most childish attitude on the floor by the bed. In 
his hand he held what, at one time, must have been 
a brass knocker, although the shape was such as he 
had never seen before or since. Sometimes Jack 
has thought there must be a key that would open it, 
for it is very heavy and thick through. “Perhaps,’^ 
thought he, “the Marble Face must first be consulted 
as to the invisible keyhole of the brass thing — which 


32 


Varie:ty Tai,es. 


1 feel sure someway must contain the treasure — 
and as to the whereabouts of the key. 

Jack paid his rent the next day for the two 
months he had engaged the house, and finding it 
necessary to go immediately to New York on busi- 
ness, which he could not finish for many months, he 
wrote his friends that any of them might get the 
benefit of the rent free. 

‘‘Knowing that I have lived through one night 
there, I can not understand why they refused to 
comply ; unless, unlike me, they have not an inquir- 
ing mind,'’ thought Jack. 

In telling the story to a friend. Jack said in sober 
earnestness : 

“I am sorry that I have never again seen the 
ghost; but you can well understand my trouble: it 
was an uneven choice for me between business, 
which no man can neglect, and the Ghost of the 
Marble Face." 


SOMETHING MISSING. 


A Humorous Ntw England Story. 

Lindonville: was certainly not a lively town. 
Every one complained of the dullness of the little 
village. Gradually, the people on Wright Street 
and for several blocks around came to the conclu- 
sion that there was something going on most of the 
time. 

^'Eventually, Mrs. Brown’s son thinks he will 
wake up this here town,” Miss Amer used to say. 

The people shook their heads as if agreeing with 
this noted seamstress, and muttered, under their 
breath, that if Gerald Brown intended to wake up 
the town, he certainly had done so. 

Now, Mrs. Brown and her son were new-comers 
to Lindonville. Gerald had in two days won his 
reputation as being the terror of the town. They 
lived next door to Miss Amer, and that good woman, 
having learned the fact in two hours after Gerald’s 
arrival, communicated it to Mrs. Smith, and so it 
went the rounds. Had she forgotten to mention the 
fact (a thing she never did), young Gerald would 
soon have let the town know, for he had no intention 
of staying still when, as he expressed it, "There ’s 
just heaps of fun in sight.” 

"Why, Mrs. Smith,” said Miss Amer, as she cut 
and sewed on a muslin dress. "That there new- 


3 


33 


34 


Variety TaeES. 


comer’s boy, he be a terror. Well,” as she threaded 
her needle, ‘'This mornin’ I was just a gettin’ my 
dinner when I hear a most dreadful noise o’ 
poundin’ !” 

“Any screams ?” asked Mrs. Smith, interested. 

“No,” answered the seamstress with a slightly 
condescending tone of voice ; “no, but the noise with- 
out screamin’ were dreadful.” 

Miss Amer never professed to having received a 
college education, but many thought that she had 
never gone through even the first lessons in gram- 
mar. However, she sewed well, was interesting; 
that is, she talked much, and was a “good old soul,” 
as every one remarked. 

“Well, what do you think I seed in agoin’ out 
that there back door and lookin’ about?” she con- 
tinued, dropping her hands into her lap, and look- 
ing excitedly into Mrs. Smith’s face. 

“What?” said that interested person in a low, 
startled whisper. 

“He and them Kent boys, as ain’t worth their 
salt and, with a leader, will get into any mischief, 
had knocked half my board fence down, which I 
had just had put between that there house and 
mine, — mind, knocked it down !” She almost 
screamed, and then, with a deep sigh of regret, she 
went on with her sewing, and waited to see what 
impression she had made on Mrs. Smith. 

That was certainly the first of the many things 
with which Gerald began to waken the sleeping 
town. 


Some:thing Missing. 


35 


Mrs. Brown called on Miss Amer shortly after 
she had complained to her about the fence. After 
taking a chair and making herself comfortable, this 
kind and loving mother began, as was her custom, 
to talk of ^'my son Gerald.” 

“Why, that boy,” she declared, with a strong 
emphasis on the word that, “he is the brightest child 
I ever came across. He is never idle, always busy, 
bless his dear little self!” 

Miss Amer tried to smile; but she omitted the 
blessing, although she agreed that he was a busy 
child. 

“He is so original in his ideas,” went on this 
proud parent. 

“Well,” remarked Miss Amer at last, so worked 
up that she could not resist putting in a word of cen- 
sure, “if his tearin’ down my new board fence was 
original, deliver me from such a boy ; that ’s agoin’ 
too far.” 

Mrs. Brown good-naturedly took no offense, but 
smiled sweetly and answered : 

“Well, just think. Miss Amer, what other boy 
would ever have thought of doing such a thing? 
Not one in a hundred I Then also you must remem- 
ber that he said he was sorry, dear little lad.” 

Miss Amer had not forgotten the way in which 
he had expressed his sorrow. He had defied his 
mother’s pleading that he would say the words, “I 
am sorry,” and when, after much coaxing and a 
promised box of candy, he had at last blurted out 
the words, he had rushed by her and in so doing 


36 


Variety TaeES. 


caught his foot in her thin dress and tore the ruffle 
entirely off. Laughing as he saw her dismayed face, 
he had called back, ‘‘I ’m sorry, but I ’ll do it again.’' 

His devoted mother had said, upon hearing the 
remark : 

'‘O boys will be boys ; so, dear Miss Amer, never 
mind,” and looking fondly after the fast-disappear- 
ing figure, she heaved a sigh. 

So now, without the least hesitation and with 
some bitterness. Miss Amer answered : 

‘'Well, his bein' sorry do n't mend the gown or 
fence. I 'd like to know what you be agoin’ to do 
about it. I ain’t a buyin’ fences mor ’n once a year ; 
not every day, you may make up your mind.” 

“O, Miss Amer, the yard looks so much nicer 
without the fence. If you would look on the cheer- 
ful side of things you would see that even from mis- 
chief develops some good. As for the fence, why, 
1 will have one built if you can not be brought to 
look sensibly on the affair, and see that yards with- 
out fences look better.” 

With this remark Mrs. Brown’s good intentions 
of rebuilding a finer fence ended. 

Gerald, one summer day, decided to walk down 
to where Mrs. Fisher lived. She was having her 
barn painted, a proceeding which interested Gerald 
very much. Seeing no one around, young Gerald 
went straight into the barn, picked up a can of paint 
and a brush and looked about for mischief, which, 
when looked for, is not hard to find. 

Mrs. Fisher had been making apple-pies. These 


Something Missing. 


37 


she put on the doorstep to cool, intending to take 
them in very soon. Her head ached from the ex- 
treme heat of the day and being over the hot stove. 
She was expecting company, in fact important comi- 
pany ; for there was Ann's “beau" from the city, and 
his mother and sister. Being worn out and ill, she 
decided to lie down for ten minutes and rest. Her 
baby boy was asleep, and her work was almost 
finished. 

Suddenly, Ann Fisher, Mrs. Fisher's only daugh- 
ter, came rushing into the room, where sound-asleep 
Mrs. Fisher was spending a rather long ten minutes. 

“Mother, mother, for pity's sake, wake up!" 
she cried. 

“You home from town already so soon?" said 
her mother, slowly opening her eyes. “Is the baby 
still asleep ?" 

“O yes, baby is all right. But indeed, mother, 
I 'm home, and the world has changed since I de- 
parted! The world, that is, in which Ann Fisher 
lived." Her eyes sparkled, and her laughter burst 
forth merrily upon the bewildered parent. Without 
allowing her mother a chance for speech, Ann con- 
tinued: “O mother! your glorious pies, chickens, 
and house — O dear! it is too funny! What will 
Jack say?" and she continued laughing until she 
sank exhausted into the nearest chair. That noble 
woman, her mother, was wide-awake at the word 
“pies." 

“For pity's sake, child, I believe you are crazy. 


38 Variety Taees. 

To be sure I made pies, and good ones too; but 
what is there to laugh at 

mother, and have they lovely green frost- 
ing? and have you bought lovely green and yellow 
chickens, and had a new painter come and draw 
caricatures upon the front door and back ? 0,0 I” 
and while Mrs. Fisher stood gazing blankly at her 
daughter, Ann went off into another peal of 
laughter. 

‘Well, you are certainly crazy! To be sure I 
made pies, and good ones too.” 

She left the room to get the pies. 

On opening the door a most startling view pre- 
sented itself. The steps, as if by magic, had houses, 
queer animals, and people wonderfully and hideously 
scattered upon them, in yellow and green, and pre- 
sented a most startling appearance. Mrs. Fisher 
trembled, but staggered forward towards the top 
step on which she knew her pies had been lying. 
They were still there, but gorgeous beyond descrip- 
tion, with the glorious colored frosting of — paint ! 

Mrs. Fisher felt that she was in a nightmare, 
and trembled from head to foot in her anger and 
astonishment. She hurried to the barn. Ann had 
said something about chickens — what? Mrs. Fisher 
pressed her hand to her head, but could not think. 
On entering the barn it was, however, unnecessary 
to think, for her beautiful hens had the queerest 
chickens she had ever beheld, and the hens them- 
selves that were strutting about and making a loud 
noise were spotted with green and yellow. Such 


Something Missing. 


39 


green and yellow creatures few have seen. Mrs. 
Fisher never knew how she got back into the 
kitchen. Dimly she saw the huge, childlishly drawn 
caricatures on the door as she stumbled into the 
kitchen, and burst out weeping. 

‘^An artist, mother,’’ called Ann, as she marched 
merrily into the room, with a wee baby of two on 
her shoulder, and followed by a strong, handsome 
man of twenty-four. Then she stopped short, and 
stood amazed at the picture of distress before her; 
for Mrs. Fisher was sobbing and rocking to and 
fro as hard as she could. She motioned Jack to fol- 
low her, and before Mrs. Fisher had found time to 
raise her head and reproach Ann for her untimely 
mirth, Ann and Jack had disappeared through the 
doorway and were on their way to Mrs. Smith ; for 
Miss Amer, who was sewing there, would know 
just what to do. 

While Ann was telling her tragic story, her 
mother wiped her tears away, brushed back her hair, 
straightened her white apron, and went in to wel- 
come her guests; for she thought she heard their 
voices in the front room. Ann returned with warm- 
hearted but, at present, angry Miss Amer. Yet 
anger could not keep the laughter from the seam- 
stress’s face, as she beheld the fancy house and 
chickens; and as she declared: 

'‘That there young scamp be mighty original, 
I ’ll no deny ; but he ’ll find some one else is original 
too, if he ain’t careful.” 

“That is what I say,” laughed Ann, and she 


40 


Variety Taees. 


started off with Jack at her side. They went on 
their way with a very determined step and look. 
Miss Amer, with the baby in her arms, marched into 
the house. Her anger knew no bounds, and she 
had already determined the first opportunity she had 
she would give the boy a good whipping. 

Mrs. Brown's house, however, much to Miss 
Amer’s surprise, was found vacant the next morn- 
ing. Not a person was to be seen. 

A week later, Miss Amer received a draft and 
a note, with the following contents : 

‘‘Dear Miss Amer, — Here I enclose money for 
your fence. My blessed boy has been abused in 
your town, and I no longer care to live where the 
entire aim of the whole community seems to be to 
kill out all his originality. I trust that Ann Fisher 
and her city beau will some day realize what they 
have done. However, my boy is happy now, and I 
am proud to be the mother of so inventive a child. 
I will have him study drawing; his work for his 
age is wonderfully well done. If you lived in a city 
you would realize that yards without fences are 
much better. Yours truly, 

“Mrs. JueiET Brown.” 

“She has really given me the money for the 
fence ! She 's a good soul after all ; and beint she a 
worshiper of the boy?” laughed Miss Amer. “But 
Ann and her beau, what have they been a-doin'?” 
She must ha’ used some of her college brains, and. 


Some:thing Missing, 


41 


combined with his, they have succeeded in driving 
that scamp from town/’ 

On asking Ann, and receiving her answer. Miss 
Amer remarked slowly and half to herself : 

“Well, I had intended givin’ the lad a whippin’ 
meself ; seein’ as he got it anyhow, I do n’t mind, 
only I ’d sort of liked to ha’ done it meself.” Then 
to herself she remarked, with a tiny feeling of scorn : 

“Why, she done just what I intended a-doin’, 
and I hain’t had a college education nither.” 

Ann was a very popular girl after that, and Miss 
Amer used to say, when any one happened to speak 
of how dull their town was : 

“Well,” with a wink at Ann, if she were present, 
“sure and there be somethin’ lively in this here vil- 
lage a-missin’, but I hain’t no objection ; it ’s sort o’ 
pleasant, so I ’m a-thinkin’, a-missin’ it.” 


MIRACULOUS HAPPENINGS. 


A Cyci^one Story. 

How STii,!^ and oppressive the air seemed ! Lola 
Aron shut the door with a slam, ‘‘to promote a speck 
of a breeze, she explained to her brother, and then 
she sang softy as she went about her work. 

Suddenly, she was disturbed by a low whistle 
from her brother, who had seated himself idly by an 
open window. 

“Sister, just come and look at this cloud. Father 
will arrive in a storm, I fear.'’ 

Their father had been gone six months, and his 
children were preparing for his arrival on the mor- 
row. 

Lola, coming at her brother’s call, saw moving 
steadily and rapidly a long, funnel-shaped cloud. 

“What can it be? Surely it is shaped like a 
cyclone,” she said. 

A low roar greeted her words ; it rose rapidly, 
and a strong wind shook the trees near the house. 

“Stay here, Ned, and I ’ll shut the windows up- 
stairs. I do believe it will be a wind-and-rain 
storm.” 

She fairly tottered on her way down the steps 
on her return to her brother, for the house shook 
to its foundation. 


42 


MIRACUI.OUS Happenings. 


43 


She reached the bottom in safety, and by the 
hall door stood her brother. No word was spoken; 
for the mighty wind lifted the roof and sides of the 
building from the foundation, and the boy and his 
sister were whirled around and around in the air, 
and cast in a heap on the ground, by an old well 
some two hundred feet distant. 

Onward, with a mighty roar, the cyclone went 
on its victorious way. 

The pretty village was but a plaything in the 
cyclone's mighty hand, and as such it played with, 
destroyed, and cast it away. 

Suddenly it had come, and as suddenly the dark- 
ness of a still night settled down over the village as 
if nothing had happened. 

Mr. Aron received a copy of the newspaper with 
a full account of the cyclone. 

“O, help me, God !" he moaned. His wife had 
long ago been dead, and now Lola and Ned were 
gone to her. 

Eight houses were destroyed and twelve un- 
roofed, his among them. Only a table on the kitchen 
floor, and a lamp undisturbed on it, was left of his 
once happy home. Fourteen persons killed, and 
among them his loved children ! 

He took the first train for the village, and, with 
word to no one, he hurried to his former home. 
He had become a broken-hearted old man in one 
day. 

There the remains ol the house stood. But 
where the door had been was a great trunk of a 


44 


Variety Tates. 


tree standing on edge, and a huge board plank had 
thrust itself, in some miraculous way, straight 
through the trunk. 

Hush ! — what was that coming across lots 
towards him, hand in hand as they used to do as 
children? Was he going mad, and only the phan- 
tom forms of his boy and girl coming to him? He 
passed a trembling hand across his hot brow. 

On they came, and, when one of them placed a 
hand as real as his own into his, and two arms were 
put around his neck, he would have fallen but for 
his son's arms. As it was, he wept as a little child 
might weep when, after danger, it nestled at last 
in the mother's protecting arms. When he grew 
quieter, they told him how miraculous had been 
their escape. 

That evening, as he asked the blessing for the 
simple fare he and his loved children shared through 
kindly friends, he prayed for those who had lost 
their loved ones. Now he knew that out of the four- 
teen reported killed, twelve were dead. 


TONY AND FLUFFY. 


A Fable. 

FluEEy looked positively beautiful in her anger 
and surprise as she faced Tony, the unexpected pet 
of the family, to whom she was a new-comer. 

Tony had consented readily to the proposal for 
a kitten in the household. He liked them, as a rule, 
unless he was neglected after their arrival. 

He was a rather good-looking pug dog, if that 
term can be applied to a pug. 

When Fluffy, the auburn-haired Angora kitten, 
spread her tail full sail and uttered a hiss, Tony 
replied : 

'Tf you are for war, I ’m afraid you must quar- 
l el alone,'’ and turning his back on the angry kitten, 
he marched away. 

‘‘Ah," said the kitten, “you are afraid to fight. 
I am very small and you are large, but my claws 
are sharp, and I know how to reach for your eyes, 
and you know I do." 

Tony went to a corner and lay down, but said 
nothing. Puss followed, a dancing light of mis- 
chief and anger in her yellow-gray eyes. 

“If you must have this place, I will leave," said 
the dog. “I am larger and would not hurt one so 
small. I have been taught to be good to kittens; 

45 


46 


Variety TaeES. 


but if you continue to annoy me, I may forget and 
become a dog that would be ashamed of himself.” 
With downcast tail, he arose and marched away. 

'‘What a queer dog!” thought Fluffy. “I was 
told all dogs were cruel and dangerous, and taught 
that my claws and power to hiss were to be used on 
all dogs that I saw. Can it be that there is any good 
in a dog ?” 

While she washed her face, she meditated on 
this new problem. She eyed wonderingly the pug 
who was being fondled by two ladies. 

“You dear, kind dog, and you spiteful little kit- 
ten,” said one of them. 

“You understand,” explained Tony from a safe 
side of the room ; “I Ve lived here eight years, and 
you have lived here three days. I think, when you 
have come to rob me of a share of my petting, that 
you might at least treat me kindly. We could be- 
come good friends, like a yellow kitten and I were 
at one time. He died, and I have missed him 
sorely.” 

Fluffy did not reply, but, still on her guard, she 
came slowly towards him until she stood in front 
of his mouth. Some way, his teeth looked so savage, 
and, being so close to him, he appeared so large, 
that, quite suddenly, Fluffy let forth a startling hiss. 
Tony was surprised; he had thought she was com- 
ing to him in friendship, and now angry thoughts 
rose in his heart. 

“She deserves to be punished, the treacherous 
little animal !” said he to himself. 


Tony and FivU^fy. 


47 


He had learned his lesson of self-control after 
many a hard experience, and Fluffy was still young 
and learning, so he was silent. 

The first kitten that came to live in the same 
house with him he had fought. The result of the 
quarrel was his near-sighted eyes. The next time 
another cat came to live there, he had only barked 
angry retorts to her hissing remarks, and had danced 
about to frighten the kitten. The reward for his 
naughty behavior had been a severe slap from the 
hand of the mistress he adored. Now he had 
learned his lesson, and the little auburn cat whom 
he had hoped for a friend, having proved, much to 
his disappointment, to be a cross, treacherous ani- ~ 
mal, like many he had known in his youth, he was 
puzzled what to do. Her fur being auburn, he had 
reasoned that she would be of the same loving, con- 
fiding nature as his dead playmate, the yellow- 
striped kitten. 

'‘He is a queer dog,’’ said the kitten, as she lay 
down and looked at him. 

"That is the way Fuzzy-wuzzy looked at me,” 
he said in a kind, pleased tone. 

"Indeed,” answered the kitten. "Perhaps then 
I am mistaken, and there is some good in you.” 

Each day after that Pussy watched him closely, 
and discovered, to her surprise, that he did not 
chase other cats in the yard. To be sure, if the mis- 
tress petted her much, his eyes fairly popped out of 
his head with jealousy, and he drank all her milk 
if it were handy. At such times her doubts of his 


48 


Variety Taees. 


having any good in him were fully aroused. When 
alone, however, she gradually found that she could 
drink milk out of the same dish with him, and at the 
same time enjoy a pleasant chat with him, or purr 
to her heart's content. Once he chased out of the 
yard a dog that had been running after her, and 
from then on her faith in him was strong. When 
they grew acquainted, the kitten said: 

^Triend Tony, I was very lonely when I first 
came, and now I am most happy with you for com- 
pany." 

"Tluffy," answered the dog, ‘T was jealous of 
you at first ; but now I find you are very pretty, and 
worthy, in more ways than one, of love. I also 
have been lonely, for I missed the dead kitten." 

“Tell me about her," said Fluffy, and she came 
slowly toward the pug. 

“Lay your head across my feet as she used to do, 
and I will put you to sleep with my story," said he. 

“Instead of that, I will sing to you while you 
slumber," said puss, not to be outdone in kindness, 
“for you must be weary." 

“Indeed we are both tired, so suppose we sleep," 
suggested the dog. 

“How cunning! What a pretty picture!" said 
the two ladies, entering the kitchen a little later, 
and seeing the dog and cat. 

Fluffy lay across the pug’s feet and Tony lay 
with his head resting lovingly on Fluffy’s soft fur. 
They seemed to hear nothing, but slept on in per- 
fect content. The kitten purred gently in her sleep. 


Tony and 


49 


This fable teaches that one must look for the 
good in others, and not for the evil, and they will be 
surprised to discover how much they will find. Also 
to remember this saying: 

Two it takes to make a quarrel,! 

One can always end it. ” 


4 


FATE OR PROPHECY. 


A Horror Story. 

The old house looked as if, were it to speak, it 
might tell of strange deeds that had happened under 
its vine-covered walls. 

People said the place was haunted; that an evil 
prophecy hung over all who should live there. 
Rumor whispered that, during the wars, a man had 
concealed himself there. From his hiding-place he 
had carried on a warfare as unusual and horrible as 
could be imagined; instead of fighting openly, he 
secretly handed out food so cleverly poisoned, that 
many of the soldiers died slow, strange deaths, for 
which no one could account. Numerous and terri- 
ble were the deeds that had taken place in this build- 
ing. 

At last it was stated that the man had died by 
accidentally tasting the food he had poisoned for 
others. When it was found that a rebel lived there, 
and he was suspected of poisoning the soldiers, men 
coming to take him found him dead. Now, the men 
said, his ghost walked the rooms of the house, moan- 
ing over the lives he had taken. Some brave deed 
might free him, and allow him to go at last to rest ; 
but a sacrificed life, willingly given, was all that 
could do so. Thus ran the story. 

An old man of the neighborhood had conversed 

50 


Fate: or Prophe:cy. 


51 


with this strange, white spirit of another world, and 
it had uttered curses on any who should live under 
those walls. 

Some people believed that the old man had really 
conversed with the ghost ; others lightly touched 
their foreheads and nodded wisely, but said nothing. 

Nevertheless, stories or no stories, Helen Mayer, 
her two sisters, one brother, and her mother, had 
moved into the old ruin and fixed up the interior 
so that, in neatness and cleanliness, it appeared like 
SL, speck of Holland. 

There were several reasons for their coming to 
live there ; one was the fact that the landlord rented 
the place for almost nothing, being eager to have 
some one move in. It had been a most unprofitable 
place to own, since the stories of the curse had been 
spread abroad. The low rates were a great induce- 
ment; secondly, the family were not superstitiouii ; 
thirdly, years ago the place had belonged to Helen's 
ancestors, and, as Helen said: ‘T do not think our 
ancestors will walk the earth, waiting to punish us.'' 

As for the stories about the house being haunted, 
the family had no faith in them. No ghost had ap- 
peared to any of the family since their coming, and 
Helen laughed at the foolish talk of the neighbor- 
hood. 

Only once did Helen confess to being nervous 
when thinking over the story. It was one evening 
while she and her sister sang, ‘‘Ah ! cha la morte 
ognora. Miserere," from II Trovatore, and a chill 
seemed to pass over her as she sang those sad words. 


52 


Variety TaeES. 


That night she drew the covers close over her head, 
and dared not open her eyes lest she behold the 
ghost of the house, and he threaten her with his 
horrid prophecy. From that time on Gladys, her 
younger sister, slept with her. Helen claimed that 
she had been over-tired, and thus more nervous 
than usual ; but the music of that one part of the 
opera was never played or sung again by any of the 
family. 

It was while living in this house that Helen met 
Reuben Harding, and a few blocks from there, on a 
hill overlooking the sea, Reuben told her his love. 

He had been East on important business the last 
few months; but to-day he was to arrive, and in 
three weeks Helen was to be his bride. 

'‘Then,’’ she said to her mother, 'T will prove 
to the villagers how foolish is their prophecy of the 
haunted house. However, should anything happen, 
it would be fate, that ’s all,” continued Helen. 

"But people would call it the prophecy of the 
ghost,” answered her mother. 

"We fear nothing, mother,” laughed Helen. 

So, since her lover was coming, although the 
heavens wept, Helen’s heart was full of sunshine. 

A quick step on the walk, the sound of a hearty, 
manly voice, and, before many moments, Helen was 
held close in her lover’s arms. 

The whole family were pleased to have Reuben 
with them. The first week after his coming passed 
so swiftly and happily that, for the time being, they 
nearly forgot the ghost story. 


Fate: or Prophecy. 


53 


By the middle of the second week Helen had 
grown nervous and irritable, because as her wed- 
ding-day grew nearer people talked continually of 
the horrid prophecy. Perhaps her nervousness or 
the rainy morning had made both the lovers feel 
disagreeable; at least, they got into a heated dis- 
cussion on some rather important subject, and the 
result was a quarrel, and Helen was both angry 
and grieved because she found Reuben was no 
broader than the general run of mankind, and she 
had ever placed him on a pedestal and worshiped 
him. 

Shortly after dinner, as the sunshine had come 
out, Helen stole silently from the house. She de- 
cided she would go and rest on the hill, near the cliff 
that overlooked the sea, where first she and Reuben 
had told their love for each other. Perhaps the in- 
fluence of olden times might heal her wounded spirit. 

When she reached the place she found her tiny 
sister, Gladys, already there gathering flowers. 
Helen felt uneasy as she caught sight of the child, 
for Gladys had never ventured here alone before. 

“Gladys,’^ she said, ‘‘you must never come here 
alone; never. Pet; for the cliff is not a safe place. 
Promise me, dearie 

Gladys looked up from the lovely violets she had 
gathered to the violet eyes above her, and then to 
the flowers that grew to the very edge of a large 
rock overlooking the sea, before she answered ; then 
she said : 

“All right, sister ; but do bring me here often. I 


54 


Varij^ty Tai^es. 


think it 's so pretty, and I do love to pick violets.” 
Then, after a pause, as Helen did not answer, Gladys 
said, ^‘Reuben will bring me if I ask him.” Then in 
surprise, ‘‘Where ’s Reuben ?” 

“Never mind, Gladys,” said Helen, lifting the 
child into her lap as she seated herself on the grass. 
“What lovely flowers you have gathered !” 

“Yes,” answered the little girl. “Half are for 
you, and half are for Reuben. I love Reuben. 
Where ’s Reuben ?” 

Helen smothered the question by a kiss on the 
rosy lips, and then, placing her on the ground, she 
walked over to the edge of the cliff. 

Below the water foamed, dashed, and roared as 
its spray struck high on the rocky, rough side of the 
cliff. 

As Helen looked down at it she shuddered. The 
prophecy flashed through her mind, and it seemed 
as if some grim vision had threatened, with untimely 
hand, to toss all she loved and cared for into the 
cruel water below. How cold it seemed to grow, 
although now the sun shone brightly. What a 
strange chill filled her heart! 

“It is dreadful here,” she sighed. “Gladys, come, 
let ^s go home.” 

Suddenly the sun was hidden by a black cloud, 
and Helen shivered ; the sun would shine soon, and 
then things would be less dismal. 

How could she ever have thought this place 
beautiful? How could love ever have blossomed 
in such a place ? 


Fate: or Prophi:cy. 


55 


She suddenly wished her lover's arms were about 
her. Perhaps Reuben was right and she was wrong. 
Anyway, what did it matter who was right, if she 
and Reuben loved each other ? Why let this dilfer- 
ence of opinion matter? That they loved each other, 
for her woman's soul was now enough. 

She roused herself from her revery, to look about 
and wonder why Gladys had not put her small, 
plump hand in hers when she called. 

As she turned to look for the child she heard 
a cry, fierce and terrible, ring out on the clear air; 
it was a child's scream full of fear. 

Helen's heart seemed to stop beating, and then, 
catching sight of Gladys some distance from her, 
she rushed towards her without a word, lest by 
speaking she should happen to startle the child ; and 
if Gladys moved she knew she would be lost. 

Gladys's bright eyes had caught sight of a bunch 
of more beautiful flowers than she clutched in her 
tiny hands. These fairer posies were on the edge 
of the rock, and, in trying to get them, she had 
slipped and now hung, over the deep abyss, by the 
thin dress which had caught over the point of the 
rough rock. 

Before Helen could reach her little sister, a 
strong man rushed past her. 

''Reuben !" she screamed, in a tone of relief and 
love. 

"Darling, stay back!" he called, and with these 
words reached Gladys. 

The thin gown gave way ; Reuben's foot slipped. 


56 


Varii:ty Tai.es. 


— a shriek: the sound of hungry waves, and then 
silence. 

Suddenly, grinning at Helen, was the ghost of 
a man, thin and gaunt, with dark spots beneath his 
eyes, that looked as if he had spent many sleepless 
nights. With one hand he pointed to the water, but 
his face was turned towards hers. 

‘'My curse, my prophecy, and now my rest,'' his 
hollow voice said. 

The very wind of the approaching storm seemed 
to toss these words over and over again to her. 
With a shriek Helen rushed towards the rock, but 
the grim figure, so white and motionless, spoke. 
“Not you," it said, and stretched one thin, bony arm 
towards her. 

She stopped and gazed with wide eyes, full of 
fear, at the ghostly figure. Long she stood, as silent 
as a statue carved of white marble, seeming uncon- 
scious of the storm that suddenly broke forth in all 
its fury. 

Suddenly Helen uttered a cry that rose high 
above the storm, and then a fierce laugh, loud and 
long. It was the laugh of a mind lost to the world. 


ORIGINAL FAIRY STORY OF COLONIAL 
TIMES. 


In the old Colonial times, if you remember 
rightly, there were thought to be such things as 
witches. Now there were also beings called fairies, 
good and bad ; but they were seldom seen, and were 
never brought to trial before the people. 

Pensive, the child whom I am going to tell you 
about, was the first to find out this truth, that there 
were fairies. She was the granddaughter of one 
of the old Puritans who came over in the ship 
Abigail with John Endicott, in 1625, and was the 
most devout of little Puritans, loving her humble 
church. 

It was on the First Day, which is now always 
called Sunday, when Pensive sat in her quiet home 
with her head bent forward, resting on her clasped 
hands. 

‘T wonder,^’ mused she, “if Sarah Good and 
Sarah Osburn are really witches 

“By no means,'’ cried a mad, shrill voice; “but 
I can make them witches." 

Pensive looked up with a very startled face, and 
was more amazed than ever on beholding at her feet 
a sturdy little man, in a long green coat, and hat 
with a large green feather in it. 

“Oh, Oh!" roared the little man, slapping his 
57 


58 


Variety Taees. 


tiny fat hand on his plump knee, ‘'you ’re thinking 
I ’m a witch, are you ?” 

“I ’m sure,” replied our little Puritan maiden, 
“I do n’t know what to think, but I know I ’d never 
dare tell mother I saw you, or she ’d think I was a 
witch and I had seen the devil.” 

“Not a very good compliment,” answered the 
little man ; “but I can assure you I make a very good 
one and with that he suddenly threw off his green 
cap and cloak and stood before her. Two huge 
horns stood out from his head in a threatening man- 
ner. He wore a most brilliant suit of red ; his tiny 
fingers looked like sharp claws, and, laughing like 
some frightful demon, he danced at her feet. He 
was no taller than the length of her hand, yet she 
feared him, and would have screamed if she could ; 
but some unknown power kept her from it. 

“I ’m only a bad fairy,” said he, in a tone that 
was so sharp it pierced like a sword ; but our devout 
young maiden, with wonderful courage, decided to 
find out about him now she had the opportunity. 

“How did you get here?” questioned she. 

“O, dear!” roared he, “why I crawled through 
the keyhole.” 

“You may call yourself a fairy, but I call you 
an evil spirit,” was our maiden’s brave reply. 

“Either pleases me,” said he ; “but listen 1 How 
would you like to go with me to my land and live ?” 

“O, never!” almost screamed Pensive. 

“Mine is better,” whispered a sweet little voice, 
and Pensive, looking about to see where it came 


Originai, Fairy Story. 


59 


from, beheld a tiny being no larger than the little 
man, but beautiful beyond words. 

‘'I am the good fairy called Peace,’’ she whis- 
pered in a soft, singing voice. ''My home is beau- 
tiful beyond mortal visions of glory. My home, 
child, if I take you there, will be a place of joy to 
you. But I should change your form and make you 
like myself, only smaller, for I am queen of my 
bright land.” 

"You are very fair,” cried the child ; "but I could 
not leave my people and change. No, no, I can not 
go! But I would rather go with you than with 
him,” she said, shuddering. 

"Well, you would, would you?” said the red 
fairy. "If she is queen of one land, I am king of 
another; and I shall punish you for this, and make 
people think you are a witch. Ha, ha I” 

"Do all you will,” cried the bright fairy Peace. 
"I can save her. I am good, and the good always 
win in the end.” 

With these words both disappeared as suddenly 
as they had appeared, and Pensive was left weak 
and trembling. 

"Are you ill, child ?” asked her mother, kindly. 

"I fear I have a little headache,” said Pensive, 
not daring to reveal her vision, or whatever it was 
she had seen. 

About a week later little Cramer, one of her boy 
friends, and the son of one of the most popular men 
of the times, came for a visit to her home. He re- 
mained several days, and Pensive told him of her 


6o 


Varij^ty Tai,es. 


dream, as she had come to think it must have been. 
They kept the secret between themselves, and again 
and again, when alone, they would discuss it. 

Now, it happened that one day these two children 
were playing with a child, named Margaret, who 
was suddenly stung by a bee. Pensive and Cramer 
tried to take the child home, but she struggled so 
that they had to give it up. 

“What shall we do, Cramer?’’ asked Pensive. 

“I don’t know. She is so frantic with pain, I 
wonder if it was an evil spirit,” answered Cramer. 

Hearing the screams a crowd had gathered, and 
catching the words “evil spirit,” they cried with 
one voice, 

“A witch! A witch!” 

Margaret’s mother grasped Pensive savagely by 
the arm, saying : 

“I have several times, since Margaret has been 
playing so much with this girl, seen that strange 
things have happened. Why, only yesterday she 
picked up a peculiar stone, and when she handed it 
to me it changed into a black bird, and flew out of 
the window.” 

“I, too,” said Cramer’s mother, “have noticed 
that my son has acted queerly and been made to talk 
and cry in his sleep. Indeed she must be a witch.” 

“No, O no!” cried Cramer, “she is as pure and 
harmless as you are, mother.” 

“See,” cried the crowd. “She even now makes 
him tell an untruth.” 

Poor Pensive was pale as death, and in her heart 


Originai, Fairy Story. 


6i 


wished she might die at once; but death does not 
come in answer to such wishes. She was taken and 
tried, and found guilty, as were all who were once 
accused. So, as was the fashion in the old Colonial 
times, her hands were tied to her feet, and she was 
thrown into the water. With a wild scream Cramer 
rushed from those who were holding him, and leaped 
in after her. They both seemed about to sink when 
suddenly a bright, beautiful, tiny being cried in a 
voice that only these two sinking children heard. 

‘Xet blindness descend upon all this multitude.’’ 

Then she touched the now floating boy and girl 
with her golden wand, and instantly they became 
smaller than her lovely self ; and taking them by the 
hand she uttered a low whistle, and a lovely white 
bird flew towards them, and Peace, clasping them 
close in her arms, mounted the bird, which bore 
them to Fairy-land. 

‘^Awake,” cried Peace, and the multitude opened 
their darkened eyes, and not seeing Cramer or Pen- 
sive floating, concluded they had drowned two inno- 
cent children. For, indeed, in those times to float 
was a sign of guilt, while to be drowned was indic- 
ative of innocence. But the little ones were carried 
away to Fairy-land, where Peace reigned as queen. 
The people in that lovely dream-land welcomed their 
small guests with joy, and crowned their heads with 
beautiful flowers. 

The fairy queen. Peace, received a message from 
the bad fairy to come and have a battle with him 
for the possession of the children. The battle was 


62 


Varie;ty Tai,es. 


to be held in the air above the place where the chil- 
dren were supposed to have been drowned. The 
Red King came down on his black bird (the bird 
that had been instrumental in doing so much evil) ; 
Peace came on her white-winged messenger (for all 
fairies used birds when going any distance). Peace 
held in her hand her golden wand, while the bad 
king carried an ebony one. These were their only 
weapons in their duel. The water rose and boiled 
below as the battle raged. Each aimed to strike the 
other with their wand, and so get them in their 
power. At last it was over, for Peace’s golden rod 
had struck the fat little hand of the king, and his 
wand dropped from it instantly. 

‘'You are in my power,” she cried, “you who 
have for years whispered evil thoughts to the little 
children in so many lands. You have changed your- 
self into bees, stones, and birds, so that the children 
have been led to make false accusations, and brought 
sorrow and misery into many horhes. Yes, the 
witchcraft began with the children, and you were 
the evil genius who caused it all. It was a fatal 
moment for you when you showed yourself to Pen- 
sive, my little enemy.” 

“Little,” he cried, furiously. 

“Yes, little; for you are little now in strength 
as I am great. Now, in punishment for your deeds, 
and that witchcraft shall be no more, I shall call 
to the sea-maids and they shall bear you beneath the 
water, where you shall die.” 

“O Peace, pardon, pardon !” he wailed ; but she 


Originai, Fairy Story 


63 


had already sounded her whistle and two beautiful 
sea-maidens came up from the deep, rough water. 
Their hair floated about their shoulders lightly, and 
sparkled with the spray. Peace gave them her 
orders, and, with wild groans, the Red King was 
carried below the waves, never to rise again. As 
with him witchcraft originated, so with him it died. 
The brave queen rode back to her fairy home on her 
white bird, and greeted with joy the two happy 
children. 

The people in Salem saw the storm on the water, 
and shook their heads with meaning, although they 
knew not its cause. 


A CHILD OF MUSIC. 


A Boarding-School Story. 

Two o’clock, and her lesson still unprepared. 
Lucy had a spell of what she termed ''the dumps.” 
Cecil Ron’s mother had just arrived, and, in a slight 
way, Lucy was reminded of her mother, whose 
dearly loved face she had not seen for two years. 
Now, as she sat sadly with her German book on her 
lap, her mind wandered back to the days before 
her mother had traveled abroad. There had been 
much saving and numerous ways tried to get enough 
for the trip, which was to make her mother a well 
woman. Lucy had gone without many a necessary 
article for the sake of her mother, but never for one 
moment would she let her dear mother guess that 
to be the case. 

Somewhere in Lucy’s nature was a vein of mis- 
chief. It was not willfulness, only an overflow of 
healthy spirits; but this worried her mother very 
much. Try as she would, Lucy could not be good 
more than two days ; then somewhere her wild spirit 
would take wing. 

Help came to the family in the shape of money 
from her mother’s wealthy relations in the old coun- 
try. It was then decided to send Lucy away to 
school during the two years her mother would be 
gone. Arold, her elder sister, felt fully equal to the 
64 


A Child Music. 


65 


care of the younger ones ; but she was glad to get 
enough money added to that her relations sent to 
them, to send both her mother and Lucy away. 
Much as she loved her small sister, she felt the 
constant care of her too great a responsibility, and 
so the merry young maiden had suddenly found 
herself, one rainy day, in a large building full of 
corridors and rooms in which she heard and saw 
merry or sad faces as the case might be, between 
already homesick girls and the old ones who felt at 
home since they had already become acquainted with 
the school. 

Lucy was very fond of music, but this was given 
under extra charge, which she was at present unable 
to pay. Once a month she heard from her mother, 
who was growing stronger, and who had the best of 
care from her brother’s family. 

When Lucy, with tears, had bade good-bye to 
her mother, she made some good resolutions, and 
determined to be good all the while her mother was 
away, and, after learning the school rules, she de- 
cided to obey them all, so her mother would have 
such favorable reports of her work and conduct that 
she would not worry. For Lucy to perform this 
reform in herself seemed beyond her. She hated 
her German and her literature, and although she 
liked mathematics and got along fairly well in it, 
still she often forgot to study it because some mis- 
chief had been planned. She went to midnight 
spreads, at the same time telling herself that she 
must not go. One might think, by doing these 
5 


66 


Variety Tates. 


things, that she did not love her mother ; for deeds, 
they say, speak louder than words. Still Lucy did 
love her mother, and she shed bitter tears after her 
spell of mischief was over. Her deportment roll 
was poor, and her lessons were so badly prepared 
that she was never on the ‘‘honor roll,’’ which gave 
girls special privileges. 

The teachers did not understand her; but the 
pupils loved her, because when with them she was 
always bright and happy, in for any fun, and kind 
to each and every one. Her dresses were few, and, 
when once torn, remained so until some wise teacher 
made her sit down and mend them. 

There was one thing, however, which no one 
noticed, and that was her intense love of music. 
They knew it made her quiet and seemingly sad, and 
they therefore felt she did not love it ; so this nature 
of hers, so opposite and yet so strange a combina- 
tion, puzzled many. 

There was one person that Lucy loved with a 
devotion almost equal to that for her mother; this 
was the vocal teacher, and it was always after a talk 
with her that Lucy would have one of her rare good 
spells, when no one could persuade her to do wrong. 

It was on this mournful day, when Lucy sat with 
her unprepared German lesson in her lap, that she 
received word that if she could not behave she must 
be sent home. Is it strange that the German letters 
in her book turned upside down, and seemed to 
dance upon the page before her, as her deep black 
eyes filled with tears ? Suddenly an idea suggested 


A Child Music. 


67 


itself to her, and she arose slowly from her chair. 
It was Monday, their holiday, and she knew Miss 
Ronald would be in her room reading. With hur- 
ried steps she went to Miss Ronald’s room. 

''Miss Ronald,” she said, eagerly opening the 
door. "Will you please sing for me ?” 

Miss Ronald’s eyes were red with weeping, and 
Lucy, seeing this, went to her and put her brown 
head on her lap, while she said gently, as she looked 
up into her face. 

"Why are you sad? Is it because — ^because I 
made you?” 

"Yes, dear,” said Miss Ronald. "To think that 
two more marks will send you away, and your dear 
mother will then have to know; and how it will 
grieve her! I did not know you were so selfish as 
well as naughty.” 

Lucy’s spirit was proud; she had never in her 
life said that she was sorry, and now for a moment 
her eyes filled with tears ; then she looked at the face 
of the teacher she loved, but whom she had never 
told of her affection. She had often said to herself 
that she was not worth having her like her. Now 
she quickly jumped up and walked to the door. 

"Miss Ronald, I ’m sorry I” she cried, and was 
gone. 

She fled swiftly down the hall to the now vacant 
practice rooms, and hastened into one of them. She 
had never dared. go there before for fear some one 
would laugh at her; for since no one had taught 
her, she knew nothing of music. She sat down by 


68 


Variety Tales. 


the instrument, and for a moment her fingers idly 
ran over the keys. Suddenly her cheeks flushed red, 
and she began to play. It was a piece she had heard 
her teacher play, and now, with infinite tenderness, 
she played it. Then at first softly, then more loudly, 
she began to sing. The voice was a rare one, even 
in its uncultured state. There was a deep richness, 
full of strength and sweetness in it. Untrained, it 
was like the song of some wild song-bird longing 
for freedom. She stopped playing, and sang it over 
again. Suddenly she paused, and began to play. 
The piece was like a part of her own nature ; she had 
never heard it except in her own heart. Sometimes 
her poor little untaught fingers almost got entangled 
with one another, and often she played several notes 
with one finger, but the piece was full of a strange 
longing. When she had finished she began to sob, 
and between each sob she spoke: 

if I could only learn, only learn — then 1 
could be good always ! I had to play to-day ; other- 
wise I would have gotten into a scrape. Ah, you 
dear old piano, I love you, and I wish I could sing 
to you just like Miss Ronald. Then I ’d tell her 
just how I love her, and I 'd be good, O so good ; 
for you would keep me so. O mother, mother, I 
want to be good !” 

Lucy was often in the habit of speaking to her- 
self, and now as she laid her head lovingly on the 
old piano she spoke to it as to a human being. She 
had not heard the door open ; she had not seen stand- 
ing there Miss Ronald, Mr. Fay, the instrumental 
teacher, and Miss Fayer, the principal; but they had 


A Child oi^ Music. 


69 


stood there ever since the second time she had sung 
the song. They stood as if petrified. Was this 
Lucy, the dullest pupil in the school, the merry, mis- 
chievous, unruly, and spoiled? As the girl still 
wept, and lay with bowed head on the keys. Miss 
Ronald came close to her. 

‘Xucy,’' she said, gently, and Lucy looked up in 
surprise and fear. Had she heard her poor playing, 
and would she scold her? She felt that she could 
not bear that now. 

Both the teachers asked her how she had learned 
to play, and whether she had made up the last piece 
she played. 

'T watched others play when I had the chance,’’ 
said Lucy. ''As for the last piece, why, that just 
came out of my fingers. I felt like that, you know, 
and that is why I made it up. I can not read 
music — for I do not know how — but I guess I play 
from ear.” 

They assured her that she ought to make a com- 
poser if she would study. 

Lucy’s face was one of intense surprise. "I — 
I have longed — I — ” she breathed. Then she spoke 
hurriedly : "If I could earn money and take lessons, 
why, O Miss Ronald, I could be good.” It was the 
old hungry cry of her heart. "I have to vent my 
spirit some way, and I do not have a chance to do 
so this way usually.” 

She asked no questions as to why they had come 
to find her, and they did not tell her the reason. 

A few weeks later. Miss Ronald took up the in- 


70 


Variety Taees. 


struction of Lucy free of charge, and Mr. Fay did 
also. The exercises were tiresome at first to her; 
for she longed to play pieces and express her 
thoughts in her own way on the piano. The finger- 
ing was hard to learn, but so dearly did she love her 
music that she worked faithfully, and soon came to 
understand how to read quickly from the music- 
book. She was as jolly as ever, but her mischief 
was all innocent, and she broke no rules. When she 
felt her old spells of unruliness coming on, she would 
sit at the piano and play until she had subdued her 
wild spirit. Her vocal improvement in three months 
was marvelous. Sad to say, she got along little 
better in her studies, and would have entirely neg- 
lected them, but she feared Miss Ronald would feel 
hurt, and she felt gratitude and love for both her 
teachers for their kindness in giving her lessons. 

When, in two more years, her mother came 
home, it was to come to her child’s recital, and to 
hear one of the most marvelous child voices she had 
ever had an opportunity to hear. Lucy also played 
a number of her own compositions. 

Years later she repaid her kind friends for their 
kindness to her in her poverty. She became one of 
the most accomplished singers and players. She was 
ever childish in many ways, and remained so until 
her death. 

Had she lived, who knows with what sweet 
melodies the world might have rung, melodies 
straight from so loving a heart ? Among those few 
who knew her best she is loved and reverenced as 
“a Child of Music.” 


A TRIAL AT ENTERTAINING. 

A Dramatic Story. 

Mr. Are:n had called on her sister, and, after 
announcing to Jennie his arrival, Elsie took him into 
the parlor as she was bidden to do. 

‘^Sister will be down in a few minutes,’’ the small 
child smiled sympathetically at the young man whose 
question she had answered. ^‘Just take a chair, sir,’* 
pointing to a soft-cushioned seat. “Sister has been 
expecting you ever since last night. She scarcely 
slept at all because her kids on her head hurt her; 
but her hair always looks better after she has curled 
it on kids. She looks awful when she has them on, 
though. Please do be seated, and I ’ll sit on this 
stool.” 

At this moment there was a decided exclamation 
from the young man, who, on sitting down, had 
fallen through to the floor. There was revealed a 
broken chair over the seat of which had been placed 
the soft cushion. The man seated himself on a sofa, 
and looked reprovingly at the child. 

“Did you do this ?” he asked. 

“I ’m so sorry. Maybe Ted did it ; he ’s full of 
pranks, you know.” 

Elsie felt perfectly safe in this statement, for had 
not she and Ted planned to lay the blame on each 
other so neither could be proved guilty ? 

71 


72 


Varie:ty Tai^es. 


Elsie set about to entertain her visitor; but her 
freckled face looked much like a dried apple as she 
tried to keep from laughing at Ted, who was in a 
safe hiding-place behind the big sofa, and who con- 
tinually made faces for her amusement. 

‘'Sister told me a fairy story last night about a 
man who loved a princess, but a prince came and 
married her. I think you must have been the man, 
because I heard her tell mother you loved her. Why 
did you leave so quickly last night? Mamma said 
she found ten pins in the sofa where you sat down 
just a minute before you left. I wonder who put 
them there? If sister had found them on her side 
of the sofa, she ’d said we did it.’' 

The young man remained silent cursing his little 
entertainer as a nuisance. Fred crept almost out of 
his hiding-place to get a good look at Mr. Aren, 
and only hastily resumed it at a warning gesture 
from Elsie. 

“Sister says I do n’t know how to entertain any- 
body, but I bet I do. She says always to talk on 
the subject the person is most interested in, and 
that ’s what I ’m doing. Ain’t you most interested 
in sister?” 

As the young man, with a bored expression, did 
not reply to her question, she added : 

“I never thought you were bashful before, but it 
seems like the cat ’s got your tongue. Sister says 
one ought not to do all the talking ; but if you do n’t 
say anything how can I help it ? Sister told me that 
she was going to marry a rich man, and then she ’d 


A Trial at Ents:rtaining. 


73 


let mother have lots of things she ’s always wanted. 
She said you were as poor as a church mouse. I 
heard her through the keyhole.’^ 

'‘Did you not know that was a very wrong and 
wicked thing to do?'' he asked, sternly. 

“Please do n't preach at me. I 'm nine, and have 
lots to learn. Sister says she wishes you were n't 
so religious. If you scold her as you do me, I do n't 
blame her a bit for not liking it. Mother says sister 
ought to marry a rich man because she 's so extrav- 
agant. Did you tell Jennie last night that you loved 
her? She came up stairs, and I heard her crying 
last night, and mother said to father that she guessed 
you had popped the question. What does that 
mean ?" 

“It 's something children should not know 
about," he answered. 

Elsie felt snubbed, and was silent some time; 
then she added : 

“I wish you 'd do it when I 'm here. Do you 
know Tom Thames? He is a dandy, for he gave us 
lots of candy. He asked Jennie to marry him; but 
of course she did not, for he 's awful poor, and she 
is going to marry a rich man. He used to go with 
her. After you left last night. Jack Adams came to 
call, and I guess he loves Jennie also. Boys always 
do, and Jennie says she can marry whom she likes, 
and mother says she better pick out a rich man 
because she 's a born society girl." 

“Did you hear this all at a keyhole ?" 

Elsie nodded to this. 


74 


Variety Taees. 


‘'Sister says you 're awful homely ; but if your 
nose was not crooked, and you were taller, and your 
hair was not red like mine, you would be all right. 
But do n't you care ; I do n't, and they say I 'm 
awfully homely. I guess you 're not as poor as she 
says, either, because you get us lots of candy and 
toys, and every dime counts; so mother says when 
I ask her to give me one." 

Elsie had been so interested in what she was 
saying that she forgot to look at the young man or 
at Ted, who was unusually quiet. 

Mr. Aren was looking anxiously towards the 
door, and he now muttered, almost beneath his 
breath, something to the effect that he could only 
stay a little while, as he was to take the five o'clock 
train to New York, at which Elsie glanced up and 
saw a frown on her listener’s face. 

“Would you like me to call her, then?" asked 
Elsie. “I thought I 'd make you have a nice time, 
but I guess I 've not and her lips trembled. 

“Here child, do n't cry. You tell her about the 
train I must make. Excuse my hasty departure to 
her, and you and Ted will find in the hall on the hat- 
rack a bag of candy." 

Elsie smacked her lips. “O say," she said, “I 'm 
awful sorry about that chair. You 're awfully 
good," and she rushed to him and gave him a bear 
hug. “I guess Ted has gone some place, but I ’ll 
eat a little now." 

She glanced hastily towards where Ted with 
eager ears sat listening. 


A Triai, at Ente:rtaining. 


75 


'‘No, you do n't !" he cried. "You bet I 'll have 
some too," and the astonished young man saw a 
small fat boy appear from behind the sofa, and van- 
ish as quickly as a flash, followed by the red-haired 
Elsie. 

"No, you don't; only half isn't it, Mr. Aren?" 
called Elsie ; but she did not wait for an answer. 

Just then a young girl entered the room. There 
was nothing especially attractive about her appear- 
ance; but a determined chin, a high forehead, and 
clear gray eyes showed that here stood a girl of in- 
tellect and fine character. The young man arose to 
meet her. 

"I just heard that you were going away. I 'm 
sorry I could not get down sooner." 

"It 's four-forty," he said. "I can just barely 
make the train." He glanced about uneasily and 
avoided looking fully into the face of the girl ; but as 
she looked down at the floor and moved nervously 
one foot about, he gave one swift glance at the face 
of the girl he had thought he loved. Just then Elsie 
and Ted, with large sticks of candy in their hands, 
appeared in the doorway. 

"Look, Jennie, what he has brought us!" said 
Elsie. "I guess he 's not as poor as a church mouse 
now, and I just like him lots; and he brought some 
toys as a surprise — ^he did 1" 

But for a warning light in the gray eyes there is 
no knowing what might have happened; but Elsie 
and Ted fled to escape all danger. 


76 


Variety Taees. 


A laughing, understanding look was in the gray 
eyes turned to Mr. Aren. 

'‘When I told mother of your love for me, I also 
told her last night what you said about being so poor 
in worldly wealth and so homely in looks, and poor 
little Elsie has heard part, but not all.’’ 

The young man was looking at her with a puz- 
zled expression. 

'T said,” continued the girl, "that even if you 
were, as you expressed it, as poor as a church mouse 
and homely, I ’d rather marry you than the hand- 
somest man alive or one as rich as a king. Must 
you go to New York?” 

The train left for New York at five, and the 
voices were still talking in the parlor at six. 


MRS. ASBORN, THE VILLAGE GOSSIP. 

A Diale:ct and Burlesque Story. 

ain't never seed anybody like that there new- 
comer," remarked Mrs. Asborn at the sewing circle. 
“Well, seein' as your all so interested, I 'll tell ye all 
about him. He wears a tall hat, somethin' like a 
stovepipe and black as a coal-bucket, and he carries 
a cane that can't do him no good, seein' as it 's about 
as thin as a willow twig. Then them spectacles he 
wears, — My !" 

Mrs. Asborn laid her sewing on her lap, and 
as she put a few pins in her mouth she paused to 
see whether they were enough interested in her story 
for her to continue. 

“What about the glasses? I suppose they sur- 
prised you," said young Mrs. Armstrong, who had 
just returned from a trip to Berry, a small village 
about sixteen miles from the one in which she lived. 

Mrs. Armstrong was supposed to be quite well 
off, having from her father the homestead, includ- 
ing some land and a large, comfortable barn and 
shed for cattle. She had, besides these, two good 
cows, two strong field horses, and a drove of sheep, 
as well as a fine dog to guard them. Indeed, what 
else could she desire? Then, too, Elsie, her sister 
and her only companion (for she was a widow) at 
77 


78 


Variety TaeES. 


her home, had a piano, and not another person in 
the village had anything but an organ on which to 
play the Sunday hymns. Thus it happened that all 
the village looked at her with devoted interest when- 
ever she made a remark. It was seldom that Mrs. 
Armstrong made a remark, and those she made 
were seldom wise ones ; still her silence left the im- 
pression that she knew more about things than she 
cared to say. 

"‘Well, them glasses were a sparklin' in the sun 
like costly jewels, and I declare I believe they were 
solid gold," resumed Mrs. Asborn. 

She pushed her own higher on her nose (they 
were not even silver), and then spent several minutes 
carefully taking the pins from her mouth and pin- 
ning together the two sides of the skirt on which she 
was sewing. One might think the pins in her mouth 
would have prevented speech ; but no, not even sleep 
put a stop to her kindly chatter. At least this is the 
statement the villagers made. 

'‘What 's he doing here ?" asked Elsie, Mrs. Arm- 
strong's pretty sister. 

"He 's come for some mischief, you may make 
up your mind," said Miss Phillips, an old maid of 
about forty. 

"Yes," resumed Mrs. Asborn, "and I do n't like 
the looks o' him anyway. I ain't feared for Sally, 
nor Ann neither, but Betsy Jane's head is like to be 
turned with all his finery. Why, them close must 
a cost him a sight o' money, if they cost him a cent." 

"That 's true, that 's true," murmured Grandpa 


Mrs. Asborn, th^ ViIvI.ag^ Gossip. 79 


Phillips, at whose house they were enjoying the 
sewing bee. 

Grandpa always came in when it met here, be- 
cause he was the oldest gentleman in the village 
and liked to be with the young people. 

''That man's cornin' reminds me of the time Villa 
Green disappeared," said Mrs. Asborn. 

"You see it was this way," she continued. "Villa 
Green was a livin’ all so happy like with her mother. 
Then she was enjoyin' Peter White's friendly com- 
pany, and him a fine man, son of Saul White, as lived 
in Sheffield for four and twenty years, and never 
was heard to do nothin' but square dealin's with his 
neighbors. Well,” threading her needle, "as I was 
a sayin', she was mighty happy, and Patsy Perkins, 
her as had no weddin'-cake, was Villa Green’s 
neighbor." 

"I never did like the looks of Patsy," interposed 
one of the ladies. 

Mrs. Asborn continued: "Well, that man, Jack- 
sonville Thornton Araban — what he wants of so 
long a name, and him so small to bear its weight, I 
can't reckon — reminds me of Jeferey Alexander 
Downson who fell in love with Villa; for 'deed he 
did fall in love with her almost at first sight. Yes, 
an' Villa, she fell in love with him. So they ran 
away and married. Well, he and she came back 
here, and poor Peter White grew as thin as a stick, 
and just looked like a shadder after he heard they 
was married. Then that man Villa married went 
off, and people said he was killed in a duel. Might 


8o 


Variety Tales. 


ha’ known he was a queer person to fight them in 
these days. We asked Peter, bein’ as he was the 
chief friend o’ Villa, to break the news to her. 
When he did she just stared at him, her poor face 
all drawn and white like, and then, with never a 
^thank you,’ the poor soul went into the house and 
never came out.” 

’Most as interesting as Romeo and Juliet that 
Daisy told me about,” cried Elsie. ‘'Whatever be- 
came of Villa?” 

“The girl Villa was never seen after that, until, 
all sudden like, once we found the front door open 
and her gone. Where she went no one knows ; but 
they say her spirit haunts the house now, and she 
is always cryin’ as if she was awful sad.” 

“Well, if there ain’t Jane Lindey,” broke in 
grandpa, as the door opened and a pretty young girl 
entered. Then he added, with a sly wink: “You 
thought you had all the news to tell, but I bet I have 
the best and most interesting,” and he held his pipe 
in silence, gazing at its smoke. 

“Tell us,” they all cried, as they began to put up 
their sewing, while Miss Phillips departed for the 
kitchen, and the ladies proceeded to lay the table 
with a white cloth and deck themselves with aprons. 
Grandpa continued (Jane had entered and stood by 
his side) : 

“Jane here,” holding her hand in his, “is to 
marry Mr. Jacksonville Thornton Araban, and go 
to the city to live. And if there he ain’t!” and the 
man with the gold glasses appeared in the door- 


Mrs. Asborn, the: VilIvAGE Gossip. 8i 

way. Jane ran to meet him, and all hurried to offer 
their congratulations. 

Sleigh-bells were heard, and the sound of gay, 
young voices. A group of boys and girls, from four- 
teen years old and upward, came in. All put on 
aprons, and the ‘'sugaring off'’ commenced. No one 
but those who have tasted it can imagine how good 
the maple-sugar, melted and placed on the cold 
snow, is when they are sugaring off. 

“Say," whispered Mrs. Asborn, as she prepared 
to leave after the rest of the guests had departed, 
“He ain't at all like a dude, be he ? Guess he 'll 
make Jane a fine husband. My! but he 's a dandy! 
I tell you if you ain't careful you never can tell a 
good person when you see one. But as I told you, 
I knowed he was a man worth knowin' the minute 
I set eyes on him. Shame he 's goin' to the city to 
live. But as T was a sayin', he 's fine ! Just as soon 
as I set eyes on them glasses, I put him in the first 
row of society, and decided to invite him to Kit’s 
garden party, and to the Church social, both of 
which occur next week, or, if it rains, they are to 
be the week after, you know." 

She departed murmuring, “As I was a sayin'," 
and the last I heard was — “set eyes on them glasses." 


6 


WHEN THE WAYS ARE THREE. 


An AivLE^gory. 

In a place at the foot of a mountain called Life 
was born a boy. About the cradle of the child stood 
many women, each ready to give the infant a gift. 

One with black, sparkling eyes and laughing 
face drew near the sleeping child, and laid her hand 
on the child’s lips, and then silently disappeared. 
Another woman, with a high forehead and a long, 
straight line of health on her beautifully shaped 
hand, touched the baby’s brow, and likewise left 
the room in silence. Still another came. No fairy 
of ancient lore could have had feet more shapely 
and beautiful. Gracefully she glided towards the 
sleeping infant, and gently touched the tiny baby’s 
feet. Another passed by the child, and took in her 
large hands those of the child. There was nothing 
remarkable in her appearance, and so she passed by, 
almost unnoticed by the child’s mother. When the 
women had all departed, the mother asked : ' 

^What did they give as gifts from the gods to 
my little one?” 

The nurse replied : ''The first gave him wit ; the 
second, intellect and great wisdom; the third, fleet- 
ness of foot and grace in dancing; and the fourth 
put skill into the boy’s hands.” 

82 


Whe:n th^ Ways ar% Three:. 


83 


Thus the boy grew to youth, and had climbed a 
fair way on the pathway of life. Although he was 
young and possessed such noble gifts of the gods, he 
was restless. Many of those he passed on the way 
were less favored than he, and they wearied him. 
The trivial talk of the multitude passing him on the 
road up Life's mountain disgusted him, for he felt 
he was superior to all people he met. 

He had walked one broad road until now, but 
here the path stretching beyond him merged into 
three. He sat down in front of them to decide 
which to take. As he sat there he saw an ant-hill by 
his side. Disgusted, he destroyed the hill nearest 
him, and, if he had not been lazy, the whole ant 
city would have faded from view. A tiny ant, carry- 
ing a heavy spider three times its own size, stopped 
suddenly on its way, as if to ask why its home had 
been ruined. 

The boy was idly curious, and wondered vaguely 
why so small a thing carried so large a load. The 
ant turned from his course, and, with its burden, 
slowly wended its way to the opening of another 
ant-hill. 

'T should think they would grow weary work- 
ing," thought the boy. 

As he watched them work, he wondered whv 
these small ants seemed so congenial to each other. 
What had they in common ? Then, angry at himself, 
he laughed scornfully, and arose and trod the little 
dwelling beneath his feet. He thought sadly : 

'T am here puzzling which path of three to take. 


84 


Variety Taees. 


I have passed my boyhood, and now enter my youth. 
How tiny the ants are, and how large my foot,’’ and 
his heart was heavy with a strange longing as he 
saw the ants that were left bravely lift a burden and 
start away. 

As he stood, wearily wondering which path to 
take, he saw three women drawing near him. One 
was a gay, pretty-faced woman, whose attitude 
seemed to speak of self-satisfaction. She reached 
him first. 

‘‘Ah, sir,” she said, “I am Pleasure and Conceit 
combined, and with my whole heart I wish to wel- 
come you up the left pathway. You can have gay 
times with me as your friend. If some fall by the 
way, it will not grieve you, for I will teach you that 
it matters little who falls so that you, the wisest and 
wittiest and best, live on.” 

From the other side path there came a tall 
woman clothed in scarlet. 

“Listen to me,” she cried out loudly, and took the 
youth’s other hand. 

“I am called Vice, and am sister to Pleasure. 
You have never tasted of the sweet drink I can give 
you. You have drunk deeply, however, of what my 
sister. Pleasure Conceit, has in her place. My home 
is full of fascination and pleasure. There are dan- 
gers to be crossed and conquered.” 

“And the end, the end of the pathway you two 
women would lead me by?” he questioned, for he 
was a wise youth. 

“We do not go that far,” said they; “live for 


Whe:n the: Ways ar^ Thrive:. 85 

to-day's good times, and into the to-morrow you 
must go alone." 

‘‘With no lamp?" he cried. 

“Yes, with no lamp; but, boy, think of the gay 
to-day," said they. 

As he stood hestitating and the longing still un- 
satisfied, a woman from the central path came 
towards him. 

She was very small and beautiful to look upon. 
The purity of her white gown seemed written in 
the sweet expression of her face. 

“You are longing for something, but you do not 
know what you want," she said, softly. 

“That is true," he answered. “Who are you?" 

“I bear many names," she said, with a smile : 
“Virtue, Sympathy, and Love. Into my home I 
gladly would welcome you. It is very beautiful ; yet 
to reach its end you must struggle over many hard 
places. On the road thither you will see sorrow, and 
learn how to comfort others. To have a field of 
good corn, you must till the land; to have flowers, 
you must enrich the soil ; to have friends, you must 
do good deeds for them. Nothing is had in my land 
without work ; but O, the result of the labor ! I 
must first give you a gift, which was given you, and 
you have idly cast away or else lost, and have 
never sought or longed for since. It is no wonder 
that this greatest gift was lost, since you have ever 
walked with Conceit. You are old enough now to 
know which path to follow. There is much for you 
to learn; but do not get discouraged, but, like the 


86 


Variety Taees. 


ants, go bravely on working, no matter what causes 
you harm. I give you a heart to understand your 
faults and virtues, and the good of others. Will 
you take it?’' 

The two women held his hands tightly. ‘Tf you 
accept, you can not go with me !” each cried. 

He did not heed them, but left them and stood by 
Virtue’s side. 

‘Whither does the Mountain of Life end if I go 
by your path ?” he said. 

“We do not know,” she answered. “But we are 
sure it is not dark or lonely, for we have a lamp on 
the way.” 

“And what may the light be ?” he said, as he fol- 
lowed his future guide. “Can we take it beyond, 
when we reach the end and enter the Great Un- 
known ?” 

Fearful of the answer. Vice and Conceited Pleas- 
ure fled from sight. 

“The light lasts always ; it will never go out.” 

Then they heard dimly the sweet voice say : 

“The light is what we call Godlike Love.” 


SHUFFLING ALONG. 


A Characte:r Sketch. 

An uncertain shuffle, a heavy cough, and a low, 
unpleasant laugh were sure to announce the ap- 
proach of Joseph Hackley. 

He had lived most of his life in the small town, 
and had spent the largest share of his time, from 
boyhood to manhood, in front of the town stores or 
the livery stables. He seemed to enjoy life in his 
peculiar way, and although he was now far past 
middle age his skill in swimming was marvelous to 
those younger. 

'‘It ’pears as if it would rain to-morrow,” was 
his usual greeting to an anxious farmer. 

Clouds had no share in introducing this remark, 
only the feeling of solid comfort it brought into the 
heart of Joseph. 

"I had hoped to get the hay in before another 
storm came,” replied Farmer Jones, as Joseph made 
his unwelcome remark. “It does not look like rain 
to me.” 

“Were you too busy this morning to notice the 
red glow in the east? It is a sure sign of rain; I 
never knew it to fail. Then, my rheumatism is hurt- 
ing my feet, and it tells a straight truth of rain.” 

When Farmer Jones told this to his wife, she 
said : “I should think you would cease to ask Joseph 
87 


88 


Varii:ty Tai^es. 


Hackley anything. I suppose he will stay to dinner 
to-day, and, with the washing and Sallie's dress to 
finish, it ’s more than my share to have gloomy, 
shuffling Joseph as company to-day.'' 

Joseph, however, did stay to dinner. It was his 
habit to visit all the different people of the town, 
who, out of pity for his poverty, and believing him 
to be feeble-minded, fed him and joyfully bade him 
good-bye at the end of the day. They were sorry for 
his old mother, and some of them loved his young 
wife, to whom he had been most kind despite his 
peculiarities. She had been dead now over a year. 

‘T hear that Mrs. Tousley is going to have a big 
wedding for Ann," said Joseph. 

Mrs. Jones nodded yes. 

'Tt 's strange I have not been invited. What time 
is it to-night? Eight o'clock! Well, well, I hope 
it won't rain for the wedding — ^that 's bad lucTc ; and 
I hope Ann won't faint — she 's very excitable. I 
told Jim Mayer that she looks very pale and has been 
overdoing getting ready for the wedding, and if she 
should have a fainting spell, who knows, maybe he 
might have a funeral instead of a wedding for his 
share I It 's not likely to happen, you say ? No ; but 
her own mother died of heart disease, and you never 
can tell what may happen, as I told Mayer." 

Mrs. Jones shed bitter tears that evening before 
the wedding. It was raining, and that, with J oseph's 
woeful hints of ill luck, had, as she had expressed it, 
set her nerves on edge. However, she rememberevl 
the saying that nature sheds all her tears for you on 


Shui^fung Along. 


89 


a rainy wedding-day, and leaves you a life full of 
joy and free from tears; and this is what she told 
the bride. 

Joseph wended his way homeward deep in 
thought. Arriving there he put on a worn, patched 
pair of overalls and the remains of a pair of heavy 
boots. During his preparations he thought of all 
that had happened that day. He remembered the 
tricks the small Tousley boys, as well as others, had 
played on him. He had not readily recognized that 
they were making fun of him ; but when he did, he 
had let them enjoy it to their heart's content. They 
had made much fun of his stooping to pick up apples 
for a small child, and his efforts to stop a horse that 
a small boy was driving rapidly, but which Joseph 
thought was running away. 

Joseph was far less stupid than his friends 
thought him, and, with all his rough manners and 
enjoyment when he made people feel uncomfortable, 
he never could bear to see people in real trouble. 

At his age he was still a good swimmer, and had 
more than once rescued children in swimming. For 
this he refused thanks, and grew so very disagree- 
able when people tried to express their appreciation 
of so brave an act, that it was better to keep at a 
distance. 

There was only one thing Joseph acutally hated, 
and that was work. 'Tt kills a man before his time," 
he had been heard to say. No doubt Joseph de- 
served his reputation. Farmer Jones had said : 

‘Tn one hour Joseph can do less work than any 


90 


Variety TaeES. 


one man I know. His intention is to shuffle through 
life, and he ’s filling the position to perfection.’’ 

At eight the beautiful home of Mrs. Tousley 
was illuminated. 

With his torn straw hat in one hand, and his big 
red handkerchief in the other, there entered Joseph 
Hackley. The door was open for the slight breeze, 
and all the guests were present, when, in his muddy 
boots, Joseph arrived. He looked at his boots, and 
then carefully removed them and walked in at the 
open door. He explained to the astonished Mrs. 
Tousley that his boots were muddy, and he feared he 
would spoil the carpet; therefore he took them off. 

The lovely evening gowns were drawn away 
from contact with his dirty, patched overalls. He 
knew them all, and they knew him, for scarcely a 
day passed that he did not eat in the kitchen of one 
of these families. He knew they tolerated him only 
because he was considered feeble-minded, and his 
deceased wife had been a great favorite, and his 
mother was well loved. 

He saw the dismayed faces of the people and of 
the hostess; but hush! the Wedding March was 
being played, and there was no time to get rid of 
Joseph. 

When the wedding was over, Joseph hurried 
forward and put his right hand on the bride’s arm. 

‘Wou never intended leaving me out, and know- 
ing you must have made a mistake, and you would 
afterwards feel sorry, why, I came anyway. I wish 
you well, and that the disappointing trials all brides 


ShuI^I^UNG AIvONG. 


91 


and grooms must experience will fall less heavily 
on you. When death and trouble, and perhaps pov- 
erty, face you both, I trust you will not waver, but 
face them bravely back. A rainy night for a wed- 
ding is bad luck; but we must hope for the best. 
My wife and I were married on a rainy night, and 
to-night reminds me of it. What a happy year 1 
had with her ! But the bad luck came, for in a year 
she died. I brought you a wedding gift that be- 
longed to her, a tiny gold locket in which she used 
to keep my picture. I leave the picture in it to re- 
mind you of the giver. Nell used to like you, and 
she would have felt I ought to attend your wed- 
ding, so I came. Enjoy the day while it lasts, for 
the night soon comes, is my last advice to you.’^ 

The bride was weeping. 

Joseph turned to the mother: 'T am sorry you 
have lost a daughter; she can never be the same to 
}Ou again; but remember the comfort she was be- 
fore you lost her.’’ With a wave of his hand he 
bade farewell. The groom was trying to comfort 
his pretty bride, and to stop the tears of the mother. 

Perhaps no man in the town was as happy as 
Joseph Hackley that night. No man had succeeded 
in making more of a sensation or of causing more 
commotion in so short a time as Joseph at the wed- 
ding. 

With his shuffling step, and a chuckle that had 
more mirth in it than usual, contented Joseph Hack- 
ley, clothed as he was, threw himself on the mattress 
in his home, and soundly slept. 


CAUGHT BY THE SEA, 


A Love Story. 

A NUMBER of merry children played on the 
white sandy beach, while here and there happy 
groups of older people watched the frolic of the 
little ones. 

Some of the young urchins yelled loudly as a 
wave would dash, half angrily and half playfully, 
against their faces. There were men and women, 
too, who, free from labor, were enjoying the salt 
air. Altogether it was a scene of great pleasure 
that two happy people sat watching. 

‘'Dick Stevens is a fine boy. See him yonder 
swimming. I do wish I was in with him.’' 

“Hard on your companion. But I tell you I 'd 
hate to see you in, and have one of those treacher- 
ous waves lift you off your feet. The tide is going 
out now. When the sea catches one, it plays with 
him relentlessly.” 

“But the touch of the soft cool water is delicious, 
and O, how I love to see people swim ! Now, Dick 
is said to be skillful at all outdoor sports. Do you 
remember last summer when you told me he was 
coming to spend the afternoon with me if it was 
convenient? Well, he came, and we had the gayest 
time imaginable at tennis.” 

92 


Caught by Se)a. 


93 


Someway the above conversation did not seem 
to interest the girl’s dark-haired companion, though 
he answered that he guessed Dick was good at out- 
door sports. So she kept silent, letting the sand fall 
from between her fingers, and seemed to be greatly 
interested in the small grains. Thus they sat, quietly 
watching the bathers ; one of the two envying them, 
the other perfectly content. 

'‘Do put up the umbrella,” said the dainty 
maiden, as she placed her hand on her hot head. 
She simply could not bear the deep silence that had 
fallen between them after the last conversation. 

"O, I ’m so sorry. Van, not to have done it be- 
fore. I ’m a thoughtless fellow, that ’s certain.” 

Her silence seemed to signify she agreed with 
him. All of a sudden she looked up at him, and 
laughed. 

'T feel so happy, and yet it ’s a selfish joy, too.” 

"What is that?” asked Frank, all attention now. 

"I have a whole month more of vacation, and 
that will be lovely.” 

"But if you get ready — if your answer is — O 
hang it ! you know what I mean.” 

"Yes, but I have not decided yet, Frank; and, 
besides, you must not say hang it, for that is not a 
graceful way for small boys or large to express 
themselves.” 

She shook her head slowly, though her eyes 
looked ever so kindly at him. 

"You see, I have to decide the same question for 
two people, and — O dear ! — I do n’t know whether 


94 


Variety Tales. 


to spend the month here or have no more summer 
resort vacation for this year.” 

'Ts it Dick?” asked Frank, slowly. 

''Why, what a funny question! Do not worry, 
but be a good boy, and if you 're real nice I 'll give 
up my vacation for you.'' 

Her playful manner and determination not to be 
serious made him laugh, and he soon joined gayly 
in, and talked nonsense quite as skillfully as his 
charming friend. 

The bathers seemed full of enjoyment as they 
splashed their hands in the waves. Long lines of 
merry girls stood hand in hand, waiting to jump 
each new wave, or else, if too late for that joy, to be 
allowed to swallow a large amount of salt water, 
over which they usually made as much fuss as a sick 
child over bad medicine. 

"O, it 's good to have vacation and such jolly 
weather as this.'' 

The sun-kissed maiden smiled brightly as she 
looked at the sea as it tossed restlessly, and now and 
then sprinkled the white sand at her feet. Her com- 
panion laughed lightly and happily ; for who would 
not do so on a day so full of beauty and a lovely, 
merry girl to keep them cheerful company? 

"You have all summer. Van, so you say, and I 
only two weeks. This is my last day from business 
to enjoy this weather.'' 

"Let 's go in swimming, Frank ; it 's lots of fun.” 

Frank looked doubtfully at the lithe form by his 
side. 


Caught by the: Se:a. 


95 


“Can you swim asked he. 

“Surely I can, Frank,’’ and she pouted ever so 
slightly. “Girls can swim as good as boys often- 
times. If you ’re about to be drowned I’ll save you. 
Let ’s go !” 

She jumped up, brushed the sand from her pretty 
frock, and started rapidly towards the bath-house. 
Evidently expected to follow, the youth quickly got 
to his feet, and in a second or so reached her side. 

“I ’m in for it, if you want to go.” 

“All right, ever so glad you feel braver,” she 
laughed. “Why, there is Dick swimming under 
water.” 

A short time elapsed ere the girl appeared ; then 
she looked all about for her partner. Not seeing 
him, she caught sight of Dick, and he of her. How 
pretty she appeared in the trim bathing suit, her hair 
neatly hid by a red bathing cap, and her small hands 
playing with the sand at her feet ! As she lifted her 
brown face to his, he thought her a fairer picture 
than ever before, and felt glad he had not gone with 
Frank to help in an accident a quarter of a mile 
below. Then a jealous feeling took possession of 
his heart. 

This was vacation, his and hers, and he would 
not give her Frank’s message; they would go and 
spend the day together, and how good it would 
seem! She would part angry with Frank, and be- 
fore she could see him and make it up they would 
be happy. So he came over to her. 

“Saw Frank go down the beach yonder where 


96 


Varie:ty TAhtS , 


you can see the dark spot. Caught sight of a fair- 
faced girl, no doubt. Had poor taste, I can tell 
you.’’ 

Van’s heart was heavy; she was much hurt at 
Frank’s rudeness, so she took Dick’s hand, and they 
went into the cool water. She would let Frank 
know she did not care ; there were others who would 
look after her ; but yet there was a forced sound to 
her laughter. She swam better than usual, and had 
just seated herself by Dick’s side when she saw a 
small procession winding up the bank. 

‘‘What is the trouble, Dick ? Do go and see.” 

“O, nothing much. Just some one fell into the 
water, and got too much salt from the sea,” said 
Dick, wishing she had not seen the men, and that 
Frank had never existed, and quickly changed the 
subject. 

A moment later — “O, there ’s Frank. I think 
you are unkind not to find out. I ’ll go myself.” 
Before he could stop her she was gone. 

Frank was nearing her; but she was too eager 
for news to remember she must be angry at him. 

“What ’s the trouble ?” then at sight of Dick’s 
face made her think: “Mr. Arnold, will you please 
tell me what the procession was going up the hill ?” 

“When you say Frank,” he laughed. 

“Well, then, Frank,” and she tossed her head 
angrily. 

She noticed his bathing suit was quite wet. 
“Been swimming without me,” she thought. 

“A child was in swimming, and while I walked 


Caught by the: Se:a. 


97 


along the beach waiting for you, I saw him go 
under. Of course I dashed in, and, lucky for him 
and my feelings, I rescued the poor little chap. But 
I had to help work over him, he was nearly gone, 
and the others just sat about and gazed, not knowing 
what to do for a half-drowned person. Poor wee 
tot! he pretty nearly made an end of it that time. 
The mother was frantic; but he is all right now. 
They carried him home to get rested.’’ 

The lovely dark eyes of the slender girl, who 
looked only sixteen but was fully nineteen, filled 
with tears. 

''You might have sent me word, you were caring 
for him afterwards.” 

"I did tell Dick to inform you, and also not to 
let you go in swimming, the tide is going out so fast, 
and it ’s dangerous. I see you went.” 

"I did not get your message,” she answered, 
quietly. Then her brown eyes opened wide, and she 
looked over to where Dick stood, with a dark, puz- 
zled frown on her face. 

Just then he joined them. Frank said nothing, 
but Dick said : 

"Busy work, I suppose, yonder for your last 
holiday. You look kind of worn out. Glad Van 
and I have a long vacation yet.” 

The strange, big, brown eyes looked straight at 
Dick as she said quietly, laying her hand on Frank’s 
arm: 

"He saved a child while we were only thinking 
7 


98 


Varie:ty Tai^es. 


of a good time. My vacation ends to-day also. 
Good-bye, Dick ; shake hands.'’ 

They left him standing on the sand, the hot sun 
beating down unnoticed on his bowed head. 

‘T have thought over all you asked, Frank; you 
are a brave boy, and I am proud of you." 

''Your answer?" asked he, with his eyes on her 
sweet face. He needed no words to tell him ; he saw 
his answer in the happy upturned countenance. 

"I ’m going home when you do, Frank. My 
holiday for this summer is over, and my answer — 
can't you guess ?" 


THE ADVENTURES OF ZIM. 


An Adve^nture: Story. 

The; light elves, Zim and his brother, sailed for 
the unknown land of the fairies, which Zim hoped 
to discover and some day to possess. 

A storm arising, both elves being poor seamen, 
their ship was lost, and they were cast upon a 
strange island. 

Zim was delighted with the beauty of the place ; 
for stretching as far as eye could see was a lawn 
of dark-green grass, and scattered about in its 
midst, as if playing hide-and-seek, were star-shaped 
flowers. Far in the distance something sparkled 
bright and shiny, as if Morning had built a throne 
at the edge of the sky, where the Sun, queen of 
brightness, dwelt and wielded a wand that kept 
nature resplendent in glory. 

As they sat in the sun, they heard, ringing sweet 
and clear upon the air, the sound of silvery bells. 

'T wonder what we have here?’’ said Zim. 

The elves, fearing discovery, hid behind a bush. 
A few moments later there came in sight a number 
of beautiful fairies, carrying roses in their hands. 
As they drew near, the elves heard a heated dis- 
cussion as to which was the fairest. When they 
reached the ocean they proceeded to undo their 


Lcrc, 


99 


lOO 


Varie:ty Tai,i:s. 


golden hair. Being thus occupied, they did not see 
at first, approaching the group, another fairy on a 
white butterfly. She was a slight, dainty fairy, 
robed in white, with a crown of star-flowers on her 
head. With one accord the fairies knelt to her, 
and said : 

''You bade us gather honey from the flower lips ; 
forgive us that we disobeyed. We thought first 
to wash our hair in the sea, that salt diamonds might 
shine in our sunny tresses when we welcome the 
dwarf, your brother.’' 

"Vain and thoughtless fairies, I am greatly 
grieved,” said the queen. "My brother is here ask- 
ing for you.” 

As she slid from the butterfly her jeweled slip- 
per became unbuckled and fell to the ground. Mis- 
chievous Zim hurried from his hiding-place and 
got it. The fairies were too busy to notice the acci- 
dent or the elf, so Zim safely resumed his hiding- 
place. 

As a punishment for their vanity and their quar- 
rel about their beauty, the queen caused the fairies 
to have white hair. 

Zim caught and pulled a lock of the fairy Hope’s 
hair for the pleasure of hearing her scream, and 
to his surprise and the queen’s that one lock re- 
mained golden. The queen looked about and shud- 
dered, for the star-flowers in the grass were wilted. 
Pointing to them she sighed, and said: 

"This is the result of vanity, and your golden 
lock of hair, Hope, shows that an elf is here. An 


The: Advejntures oi^ Zim. 


lOI 


elf, and wilted star-blossoms, means sorrow and 
tears to the Isle of — the Isle of — ! O fairies, my 
slipper is lost, and our Isle's name has therefore fled 
from my memory ! Hunt, maidens ; for if our 
magic slipper can not be found, we are indeed pun- 
ished for your vanity. 

In the excitement, fearing discovery, the two 
mischievous elves sped swiftly to a safer place in 
the forest beyond. 

‘Terhaps if you try the slipper on we will learn 
the name of this island, and it may be the one we 
are seeking," said Theon. ‘‘Do try it on, and see." 

“Our bodies are small, but our feet are long and 
pointed like skates ; it may not fit," woefully an- 
swered Zim. 

To their delight, it fitted Zim perfectly. 

“I must have the other slipper for the second 
letter," said he. “But the first letter is Z." 

“Give it your first initial as a name, will you?" 
said Theon, and a quarrel ensued. About sunset 
they became friends, and wandered back to the 
fairy dell. 

Guided by the slipper, the two elves wended 
their way to the fairy palace, which no elf could 
have found without the slipper. 

On reaching it, Zim proposed that they change 
themselves into birds, and fly into the open window. 

In the palace a strange sight met their eyes, 
the fairies were weeping, the queen was blind and 
had almost lost her memory. Hope was by her 
queen's side, trying to comfort her. 


102 


Variety Taeks. 


''I have one bright lock/' she whispered. ''As 
it shines, so is there hope for us; for vanity shall 
cease, queen, and we shall yet have joy.’' 

The queen, paying no attention to Hope, turned 
to speak to her brother. 

"Do you know the elves?" 

"We dwarfs are not their friends," he said. "To 
be sure I may be to blame for this trouble, for I 
caused a storm to tip over a glass boat containing 
two elves ; but I supposed they were drowned." 

"They landed here, for elves never drown, and, 
finding vanity reigning in our hearts, we have been 
an easy prey to their mischief," sobbed the queen. 

"Queen, I will sacrifice my fairy form and be- 
come a sea-maid that I may watch and keep the 
elves from leaving the island with the slipper," said 
Hope. "To be sure I can never regain the old 
color of my hair, but I do not mind that, if I can 
save our land." 

So she departed to perform her promise. 

Zim sighed. "I wish I had the other slipper," 
whispered he. At the very moment he spoke, the 
queen, who was full of despair, pulled off the other 
slipper and threw it to the far end of the room. 

"There will never be joy now that the slipper is 
gone; so what use is one without the other?" she 
cried. 

The fairies were so surprised at the queen’s 
anger that they did not move for some moments. 
When they did search for the slipper it had dis- 
appeared. 


The: Adve:nture:s Zim, 103 

The elves flew out of the window, and resum- 
ing their former shape, Zim, when a safe distance 
from the palace, hastened to try on the slipper. 

I have it!'’ he cried. ‘'The second letter 
is O. The Isle of Zo, meaning the Isle of Light 
or of the star-flower. Without the slippers the 
fairies lose all their magic powers. The symbol of 
joy and light is the star-flower, which grows so 
thickly here. If it is picked by an elf, and the 
slippers are given to a fairy disguised in the shape 
of a sea-maiden, we can secure a boat. The star- 
flower, however, can not be picked without taking 
off the slippers, and they never can be put on again. 
Unless the star-flower wilts, even after the slippers 
are gone, it will remind him of the name of the 
island. However, I will not part with the slippers ; 
I will wear them home," said Zim. 

Being weary, both elves lay down to sleep. 

Theon was hungry and homesick, and cared for 
no more adventure; so when Zim was asleep, he 
deftly took off the slippers, plucked a star-flower 
and hurried to the seashore. As he stood there a 
small sea-maiden drew herself up on a high rock, 
where others were already seated. She sang, high 
above the song of the others, a song of warning 
to the men at sea, bidding them listen to the roar- 
ing waves rather than to her companion's charming 
song. Theon noticed that the chief singer's hair 
was perfectly white except for one golden lock, 
and he knew it was the fairy Hope. Hiding his 
flower, he coaxed her to the shore, and on obtain- 


104 Variety TaeES. 

ing her promise to give him a boat for the slippers, 
he gave them to her. After getting her promise, 
which, being a fairy, she had to keep, he held before 
her startled gaze the star-flower, and Hope knew 
that, unless it wilted in Zim’s hand, the elves, know- 
ing where to come, would try to take the island. 
Still the magic slippers gave the fairies their old 
magic arts to use in defense of their land. 

Zim was very angry when he found the slippers 
gone; but he consoled himself with the star-flower 
and the glass boat that now lay at anchor by the 
shore. Hope sang a song of safety to them until 
they were far at sea, and then, resuming her fairy 
form, she returned to the palace. 

The Isle of Zo was full of rejoicing on the re- 
turn of the slippers, the queen’s sight was restored, 
and the white hair of the fairy was again golden. 
Hope’s hair, however, remained white, with one 
golden lock. 

The queen rewarded Hope thus: 

''When the flowers are sleepy,” she said to Hope, 
"you shall waken them to beauty. My ethereal 
fairy, you may now enjoy reward for your good 
deeds, and travel to our air queen’s home with me, 
to bring glad greetings from her. You shall ever 
be with me.” 

The fairy Hope was content, and the others re- 
joiced with her. As the fairies looked at the star- 
flowers surrounding the palace, they saw that the 
flowers were once more beautiful, and this fact 
made them trust that Zim would forget the name 


Th^ Adve;nturi:s Zim. 105 

of the Isle of Zo. Since vanity no longer reigned 
in their hearts, Joy took the crown, and ruled in- 
stead. 

As the glass boat got out at sea, Zim was so 
pleased with the news he had to tell the Light elves, 
who had long searched for the fairy’s land, that 
he bade Theon join him in a glad song of triumph, 
and they laughed and made merry. When they 
reached the elves’ land they found new rulers had 
come to control and teach the Light elf-band how 
to work and make the place beautiful. Frey and 
Freyja, Summer and Beauty, had come to rule and 
help the elves. Zim laughed when he heard the 
news, and held before the surprised elves the star- 
flower. He had taken good care of it, and it was 
still beautiful. 

'‘They can never make a place as fair as the one 
we shall find ; for I have had a grand adventure, 
and learned the Fairy Isle name. With the name 
I can guide you to the land you have long hunted 
for in vain,” said Zim, boastfully. “Their vanity 
caused my success. If we go there, we can con- 
quer them, and live in a lovely place without work, 
for they will be our slaves and work for us.” 

“Tell it, Zim,” cried Theon. 

His cry was echoed by all the elves; for a land 
where they need not work was a place to go to as 
soon as possible, because the new rulers believed 
there was a time for work as well as for play. 

“I know you are all anxious, so I will not keep 
you in suspense,” said Zim. “This flower brings 


io6 


Variety TaeES. 


us to a playground where there is no work-day. 
Look upon the flower — the flower that through my 
bravery in going to a strange land, my sacrifice of 
jeweled slippers and magic arts, my courage in the 
midst of storm at sea — I brought here for us elves 
that I might secure a beautiful place free from all 
labor. This flower, for which I underwent so much, 
tells us to go to the Isle of — the Isle of — 

The Light elves looked, and saw the flower was 
wilted. With a shriek of rage, Zim cried : 

‘Triends, we are lost, for the name has fled!’' 


DOUBLE EDITING. 


A De:cid£:d Pi,ot. 

''And so, with a sadder heart, she let them pass 
by her/^ Over and over again Elizabeth read these 
words. "That sounds tragic,’' and a satisfied sigh 
rent the air. 

"Mother, mother!” 

A gentle voice, not unmixed with surprise, an- 
swered : "Yes, daughter; I thought you went to 
Jessie’s for the day.” 

"I really could not, mother dear,” said the girl, 
embracing that comfortable looking person. "I 
have written a new story, and it is called 'A Lost 
HiSart.’ I am sure it will take the prize offered 
in the papers.” 

"Well, read ahead,” and Mrs. Atland took a 
stocking in her ever-busy hand and seated herself 
near the bright-eyed girl. 

For a time the soft, monotonous voice of the 
girl was all that could be heard except the incessant 
ticking of the clock. At last the voice ceased. 

"There! Jorden said I could not write a story 
worth publishing. He says Nell Fairfield writes 
finely, and had her name in the honorable list last 
week. Jorden wanted to know if she did not get 
her ideas from some one else. I said, 'Of course, 
Nell’s father being chief friend of a newspaper 
107 


io8 Varie:ty Tai,i:s. 

reporter, she had influence/ If they judge truly, 
do n’t you think this will do, under my own name ?” 
(She did not add that her stories under Nell’s 
name were accepted; nor that Nell thought silence 
on this subject was best, and Kitty would get a 
share of the pin-money.) Her sweet, girlish face 
was full of interest, and the mother nodded an ap- 
proving smile as she answered in the affirmative. 
Late that afternoon Nell arrived to spend a week 
or two. 

'‘O, you dear; you ’re just in time to go to the 
moonlight picnic to-night. Thurlow Jorden is to 
take us, and it will be grand. I did not really ex- 
pect you until to-morrow. Isn’t it jolly?” 

The busy little miss fluttered about on tiptoe, 
and gave her friend a hug every now and then 
in her delight. She was so slight that no one would 
have believed her eighteen. 

‘^You know Thurlow? I declare I am delighted. 
By the way, he says that you write, and I never told 
our secret even to mother. That makes me think, 
I wonder what mother does with the first copies 
of all my stories ; puts them away for keeps, I guess. 
She never reads the Chicago papers, so she does 
not see yours. I am trying my hand again, and 
shall send this one story in my own name. I know 
you do not like it, so I felt you would not care. 
Thurlow says skill and talent are the cause of stories 
being accepted ; but I know, Nell, it ’s influence. 
Do not tell him that I am going to try this one 
alone, for he thinks me a fraud in that line.” 


Doubi^E Editing. 


109 


''Ever get any published alone, Puss?’' said Nell, 
patting Kit McLain’s fair head. 

"No, not yet. I ’ve only tried twice, you know, 
and I guess they did not read them, for every one 
says I have talent and some day will be famous; 
but, Nell, those two were not accepted. Surely this 
one will be, for think how well those you sent of 
mine have taken. But, of course, you have influ- 
ence.” 

She did not catch sight of Nell’s pitying glance 
at her hopeful face. While Kitty helped her mother 
get supper, Nell sat in the dainty little bed-room 
prepared for her, and thought. 

Jorden was to take them to-night. How well 
she knew him! Once a poor little farm-boy, who, 
she felt, was too poverty-stricken for her big 
parties; then a man struggling to make his way — 
just a year ago; now a wealthy mine-owner, and as 
handsome as of old he seemed homely. One of 
these unexpected discoveries of a good mine in 
Colorado, and the help of a wealthy man friend, and 
this poor boy was a wealthy man. For a year 
Nell had traveled, and she remembered no decided 
answer had been really given in words. Indeed, 
she had resented the poor boy’s proposal, and had 
felt it scarcely worth while to answer one way or 
the other. Now she looked long in the small mir- 
ror in her room at her lovely face, and ended her 
survey with a happy nod of her head. She would 
scheme and win Jorden; he liked a talented girl, 
and so she would succeed in all. 


no 


Variety TaeES. 


''O, Puss, are you dressing already?'’ she asked, 
on opening the door of that young lady’s room. 
‘That’s a dainty white frock; do let me try it on. 
So thin and frail ; are you not almost afraid to wear 
it? No! Well, let me see it. — Oh!” 

Puss, who was busy washing her face, looked up 
with the towel in her dripping hands. 

“I ’ve torn this ; I ’m so sorry. Look ! Dear me, 
how could I have done it?” 

“O, what will I do, Nell? That is all the best 
dress I have.” 

Nell went alone with Jorden; for the tear was 
beyond mending, and so Kitty could not go. She 
did not see Jorden when he came, but let Nell give 
her excuse. After they had departed she decided to 
write another story for Nell. 

“It must be in by Wednesday,” she sighed; “and 
if I can not enjoy this vacation evening in the lovely 
woods, I will write a story.” 

This story took some time, and was called “A 
Close Call.” It related her own sad evening, and 
Leland, the hero, was left in a sad state of mind. 
Kitty could not tell which girl to marry him to. 
At last she decided on the rich one. Before retiring, 
she made three type-written copies. 

Nell returned to find Puss sound asleep, the 
papers of her story lying upward on the table. She 
glanced anxiously at Puss, who was sleeping 
soundly, then took them in her hand to her room. 
She would not awake Kitty, but wait till the morn- 
ing to tell of her good time. 


Doubi,^ Editing. 


Ill 


Jorden called two weeks later. He had been 
called out of town, and had just returned. Puss 
met him at the door. 

“I sent a story, Thurlow, and mother thinks it 
good; but it has come back.'’ 

Jorden's eyes were fixed on a beautiful, stately 
girl in the parlor, and Puss felt a little neglected 
as, a moment later, he held Nell's hand in his, and 
looked earnestly at her. Kitty soon left them to 
make lemonade. 

''Thurlow, you said long ago that you would 
marry a famous woman ; I am on my way ; and once 
you asked me to be your bride. I have thought it 
over. Guess my answer;" and her glorious eyes 
looked up at him. 

"I have found name is not everything, but 
speaking of it reminds me that there is a clever, 
pretty tale called 'A Ctos^ CatIv' in the paper, and 
the ending gave so much to one girl, and so little 
to the other. One girl was rich, the other poor. 
This story has your name above it. You have taken 
a year to decide that question I asked ; in that time, 
one would naturally judge, you must have written 
a good deal, and I, too, have succeeded since then. 
As I read this story again, of a torn dress, I thought 
indeed the lad had a close call between the two 
girls. A copy of this tale was sent me before a 
little girl went to sleep. I found it on my table 
when I came home. It must have arrived while 
you and I sailed in the moonlight." He looked 
straight into those treacherous, lovely eyes, and they 


II2 


Varie^ty Tai,e:s. 


fell before his steady gaze. ‘'The stories are the 
same. Puss’s other story, ‘A Lost Heart,’ under her 
own name was refused, for it was not as clever as 
the first. Under your name you have printed ten 
stories; I will not tell you how I know, but Puss 
did not tell me. Your own stories, five in all, have 
been sent back. There is the child I love and 
cherish. Nell, let Pet have the next story herself.” 

Puss was all smiles as she came in. 

“My cake is just grand, Thurlow; you both must 
eat lots of it.” 

“Pet, your story is accepted,” said he. 

Kitty nearly dropped the tray. “My story ! 
Why, how do you know? Which one? O dear!” 
and she bit her lip. 

“You sent me a copy that night of ‘A Close 
Call.’ ” 

“O no!” 

“Then your mother did, and has sent me a copy 
of every story that you have written lately. By the 
way, Nell, congratulate me, for I am the happiest 
man alive. Little Pet and I are engaged. She has 
given you all her best stories, and given me her- 
self.” 

“They would not have been accepted if I had 
sent them,” murmured Kitty. 

“In one day you gave me your hand without a 
long thought about it, little girl. Nell, I am sure, 
will succeed in her work, as we have done in know- 
ing our minds at once — if my dear Pet writes as of 
old for her.” 


Doubli: Editing. 


113 

‘Tuss/' said Nell, her face a scarlet color, ‘‘I 
will write my own stories or none,’’ and tears of 
anger and vexation filled her eyes. ^‘It ’s not influ- 
ence, Puss, I am sure.” 

Kitty looked surprised at Jorden as Nell ran 
from the room, and was about to follow her; but 
he laid his hand tenderly on her shoulder. 

“She is tired. Pet, and wants to be alone.” 

“If not influence, why were they accepted?” She 
looked earnestly at Thurlow. 

“I think,” said Jorden as he smiled kindly down 
into the blue eyes of the one he held most precious, 
“influence would not get it published, little sweet- 
heart. But I know the key that opens the door to 
success, and its name is talent.” 


8 


ONLY AN EASTER EGG. 


A Re:i,igious Story. 

Mrs. Atson was queer ; at least, every one 
thought so. 

''She has no heart at all,’' said the people in the 
village where she lived. 

She never came to church, and was called a 
heathen. Many prayers were offered for her; but 
still she staid away. She never made calls, and 
seldom received them after the first calls on her 
entrance to the town. Besides, she wore oddly made 
dresses of fashions long gone by. Not on account 
of poverty, but simply because she had lost all in- 
terest in dress. The people considered her penurious 
and selfish. Through all these criticisms the cold 
features of Mrs. Atson never changed. 

Now, at the foot of the hill from this old lady’s 
home lived a poor family of three, — a mother and 
her two children. 

It happened that on the eve before Easter this 
family were all gathered in one large room. This 
room took the place of sitting-room, kitchen, and 
bed-room; they had, however, one more which was 
used as a sleeping-room. These two rooms made 
up what little Lily called home. 

The mother sewed by the day for a living; the 


114 


OnIvY an Easte:r Egg. 


115 

elder daughter was an invalid, and the baby Lily 
was too young to help her mother. 

On this particular evening the mother lay very 
ill in the large bed in the chief room. The daughter, 
with her feeble strength, could scarcely manage to 
do the housework and care for her sick mother. It 
had been going on so for a week, and the money 
was all gone, and with an anxious heart the girl 
thought of the morrow. 

‘Tf Lily were older, she might be able to help,’’ 
she said sadly to herself. 

Lily was a tiny child of five, with the most beau- 
tiful of dark eyes and hair that curled in soft ring- 
lets about her face. Were it not for her thin fea- 
tures, she would have been a beautiful child. She 
sat on the floor with an egg and the remains of a 
coloring paper. Suddenly she sprang up from her 
seat and, running to her mother’s bed, cried : 

''Look, look, mamma, I have made myself such 
a beautiful egg !” 

Indeed the child had succeeded well, and the egg 
looked like Joseph’s coat, it was so literally covered 
with many colors. 

"It is indeed very pretty,” said the mother ; "and 
now you won’t feel sad because you do n’t get more 
eggs, will you?” she continued as she touched her 
lips to the little one’s. 

"No, mamma; but I wish I could go to the 
church and see the lilies.” 

"The lilies,” murmured the mother, softly. "On 
Easter-day, God’s lilies. Little one,” she whispered 


ii6 


Vari^^ty Tai,es. 


gently, am going to see God's lilies, but I can 
not take you there. Be patient, and, if not to- 
morrow, at least some time, you will see His lilies." 

That night the mother grew rapidly worse, and 
the invalid sister sat by her side through the dreary 
hours. 

In the morning Lily rose from her tiny bed, and, 
dressing quickly, crept noiselessly out of the house. 
A sudden thought had entered her busy little brain, 
and she was very anxious to follow its directions. 
In her small hand she held carefully her Easter 
egg, rolled in a piece of paper. On she ran, straight 
up the hill, until she stood before a large, beautiful 
house. She drew the shawl more closely about her, 
and walked rapidly up to the door. 

'Ts Mrs. Atson in?" she asked the doorkeeper. 
He eyed the child a few minutes in scorn ; then said, 
abruptly : 

“Yes, but not to beggars." 

The child's pale face flushed painfully, and the 
tears would come into her eyes, although she tried 
bravely to conceal her feelings. 

“Please," she said, slowly, “tell her that there 
is a little child at the door who wishes very much 
to see her." 

“Well, since you insist, I will do so; but you *11 
find her answer corresponds with mine," replied he. 
In a few minutes he returned to the door, with a 
look of surprise and anger. “Come right in, miss ; 
she will see you." 

The child stepped softly on the dainty hall car- 


OnIvY an Easte^r Egg. 117 

pet. After each step she would look back at what 
she had already passed over, and, seeing the carpet 
still remained the same, she took more courage and 
walked faster. The servant seeing her look back 
so often, at last asked her the cause. 

‘T was afraid,’' said Lily, very soberly, ''that I 
might hurt the roses.” 

The man burst into a hearty peal of laugher; 
but seeing the very puzzled expression on the sweet 
baby face, said, as soberly as possible, "O no, it 
do n’t hurt the carpet in the least to be walked on.” 

She entered a beautiful room, and her little feet 
stepped on a carpet of lilies; at least it seemed so 
to her. The pattern of the paper was of lilies also, 
and in the window was a large number of beautiful, 
blooming Easter lilies. 

A tall, stately woman advanced to meet the child. 
The wonderful spell of delight was not broken until 
she heard the cold tones of the mistress. 

"What is it ?” asked she. 

"I came,” said little Lily softly, "to bring you 
an Easter egg.” 

Mrs. Atson sat down and motioned the child to 
do likewise, and then said : 

"An Easter egg?” 

"Yes,” said Lily, carefully unwrapping it. "I 
fixed it all myself, ’cause I wanted a Easter egg so 
badly, and then last night I thought you, too, might 
not get one, so I thought I should like to give it 
to you.” 

Mrs. Atson took the egg offered her, and looked 


ii8 


Variety TaeES. 


at it in silence a few minutes, and then asked the 
question that lay in her mind, “Why did you think I 
needed it more than any one else?'’ 

Her tone was suspicious, for in her heart she 
feared some one had sent the little one to her, think- 
ing so to influence her, and with this thought her 
face grew harder. 

“Because,” said the child, slowly, “you always 
seemed so lonesome, and I am often lonely too; so 
1 thought it would be nice if you and I could spend 
our Easter together.” Suddenly she paused, and 
looked about the room, her large eyes wide open, 
and a smile on her face, as with parted lips she 
gazed about her. 

“What is the matter?” said Mrs. Atson, in her 
heart thinking how sweet and fair the little one was. 

“Is this God's lily room ?” said the soft, musical, 
childish voice, in a gentle, awed tone. 

“God's lily room,” repeated Mrs. Atson. 

She also cast her eyes about the room, and sud- 
denly, as if a mist had been withdrawn from her 
sight, everything became more lovely. 

“It has never been,” she said, mentally, “but^it 
shall be.” Aloud she said, “Why, little one?” and 
her voice was soft and low. 

“Because there are so many lilies here, and this 
is Easter-day,” said Lily. 

“Then you belong in here, little one,” said Mrs. 
Atson; “for your name is Lily, is it not?” 

“Yes,” said the child, thoughtfully, “and mamma 
is going to the Lily-land above the sky. It 's so 


OnIvY an Easte:r Egg. 119 

lovely here in God’s lily-room that I think I could 
wait quietly before I go to join mamma, if 1 could 
always stay here. I wanted to go and see the 
church, but I had no dress, and now I think it could 
not be fairer than this room, even with the music.” 

The sentence sounded strangely from a child so 
young. 

Tears filled the eyes of Mrs. Atson, who was 
supposed to have no heart. She stooped over and 
kissed the cheek of the child, who sat by her side. 
Then slowly she drew out the story, from those 
childish lips, of the suffering and sorrow of the tiny 
home at the bottom of the hill. She learned also 
that the little one had eaten nothing that morning, 
and that the elder sister had been sleeping when 
she stole quietly from her home to give her own 
little Easter egg to a stranger. 

“Would you like to go to the church?” said she, 
her voice so sweet and tender that no one would 
have known her for the cold, haughty Mrs. Atson. 

“O yes !” cried the child, clasping her hands to- 
gether, and looking into the eyes of the woman by 
her side. 

“Would you mind wearing an old-fashioned 
dress, little one ?” she said, and again her tone grew 
bitter. Perhaps this child had laughed at her like 
the other children, she thought. 

“O no!” said Lily; “then I would be an Easter 
child of long ago.” 

“What strange ideas for a little head !” thought 


120 


Varie:ty Tai,es. 


Mrs. Atson; but aloud she said, ‘'Come up stairs 
with me.’' 

She took the tiny hand in hers, and the child 
chatted freely and gayly to her friend. At the top 
of the stairs they came into a long hall, and, passing 
down this, they soon came to a door on the right. 
This Mrs. Atson opened, and they entered a finely 
furnished room ; but to both their eyes the lily-room 
was the fairer. 

Mrs. Atson raised the lid of a large chest that 
stood at one end, and took from it some tiny but 
beautiful old-style garments. 

“Come, dear, let 's try these on ; they belonged 
to my own little girl.” 

Then she robed her in the dainty old silk gown. 

“How very lovely!” cried the child. “But you 
said these were your own little girl’s,” she con- 
tinued. 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Atson, tears flooding her eyes, 
and this time flowing down her cheeks. “They were 
my little darling’s, but she was taken long ago from 
me. So now the Lily who has come to see me, and 
• iven me her own Easter egg, decorated by her dear 
(lands, shall wear them.” 

Then Mrs. Atson received a surprise greater than 
any before, for Lily rushed to her, and, throwing 
her tiny arms about her neck, declared, in accents 
soft and tender, the little sentence which means so 
much : 

“I love you — O, I do love you so well I” 

“Now, my dear, you must have something to 


Only an Eastlr Egg. 


121 


eat/^ said Mrs. Atson when the child had unclasped 
her arms from about her neck, and stood before her, 
a beautiful picture of a little, old-fashioned maiden. 
Wonderful to relate, Lily was so like Mrs. Atson's 
own lost pet that her heart grew still warmer 
towards her, and she longed to have her for her own. 

‘‘After we have breakfasted, you go to the 
church, and come again to see me.’’ 

The baby face for a moment lit up with a glad 
smile, then suddenly grew sober. “Won’t you go 
too ?” she asked. 

“I can not,” said Mrs. Atson, her tone almost 
harsh once more. 

“Then,” said the little Lily, “I guess maybe we 
had better stay together in God’s lily-room, ’cause 
I do n’t want to go if you can’t.” 

At this moment a fierce struggle was being 
fought between two passions — false pride and her 
new-found love ; but the child knew it not. Her 
next words proved that love had conquered. 

“Well, my good fairy, I will go.” 

After they had breakfasted together in the ele- 
gant old dining-room, Mrs. Atson held Lily’s hand 
in hers and they started for the church. On arriv- 
ing there, Mrs. Atson took a front seat for the 
child’s sake. 

The people gazed long at the tall, stately woman 
in her queer gown, and the beautiful child in her 
quaint costume of long ago. 

“I think the angels’ singing is lovely,” said the 
soft baby voice, while her dark eyes opened wider 


122 


Varii:ty Tai.e:s. 


and a glad smile played about her lips, as the choir 
began to sing, and the glorious Easter music pealed 
forth from the grand old organ. 

Although Lily did not understand the sermon, 
she realized that some transformation had taken 
place in the woman by her side, whose whole coun- 
tenance showed to all about her the peace and joy 
of a soul brought again into harmony with God's 
will. Long ere the service was over the tiny head 
leaned against the arm of Mrs. Atson, and the deep- 
brown eyes were closed. No one could tell the 
thoughts of Mrs. Atson, but the look on her face 
as she gazed upon the sleeping child revealed to the 
people that Mrs. Atson had a heart, and one of 
God's little ones had found it. 

Mrs. Atson accompanied the child home. On 
entering the house, Lily rushed to her mother's 
bedside and gave her a sweet, tender kiss, and then 
introduced Mrs. Atson as her friend who lived in 
the lovely house on the hill. 

Instantly Mrs. Leland knew who she was, and 
great was her surprise. She lived three more days, 
three of the most peaceful days of her life, and it 
gave her great joy that her little Lily had found the 
way into a heart seemingly closed to all sympathy 
and love. 

The best medical service was secured, and every 
dainty comfort procured for the mother, but she 
was already past earthly help. One bright, beau- 
tiful morning, after pressing loving kisses upon her 
daughter's cheeks, she passed away with a joyful 


OnIvY an Easti^r Egg. 


123 


smile on her pale face ; for Mrs. Atson had assured 
her that she would always care for her children, 
and told her how lonely she was for some one to 
love and care for her. 

A few days later these two came to live in the 
elegant home on the hill. 

The people in the little town believe now that 
Mrs. Atson has a heart ; and she is no longer termed 
an unbeliever, for she is an earnest helper in their 
Church; and every Sunday finds her with Lily’s 
tiny hand in hers, entering its doors. 

The sweet invalid sister at home often thinks 
of the passage of Scripture, ''And a little child shall 
lead them,'' and then says, "Surely Lily did more 
than I, grown as I am, ever could have done." 

Another Easter-day is here, and the scene that 
we now behold is somewhat changed. Lily is seated 
by a simply but daintily dressed lady, while near 
by, on a Ikrge leather sofa, lies the sweet-faced older 
sister, much stronger and very happy. 

Yes, Lily is waiting hand in hand with her sister 
and Mrs. Atson in what the little one has named 
"God's Lily-room." 

Surely God's angels hover over them; and in 
reverent love for their Savior, who has given her 
these joys, Mrs. Atson utters the sweet child's name 
for her favorite room — 

"God's Lily-room." 


A BUSINESS ENTERPRISE. 


A CoMMERCiAi, Story. 

On a rise of land in the center of a small island 
stood a newly-built paper-mill. The island was in- 
closed on one side by the river, and on the other 
side by the feeder. The sound of machinery at 
work gave evidence that busy hands and minds were 
already employed behind its walls. 

Jim Cook, who had worked earnestly as clerk 
in a book-shop, and had carefully laid aside a small 
sum, and Rob Anderson, who had inherited a com- 
fortable fortune and desired to invest it in some 
profitable enterprise, had put their money together, 
and the new mill was the result of their careful 
planning. 

The partners had found success evident from the 
first, and at the end of a year they felt so fully as- 
sured of it that the following April they both mar- 
ried : Rob to May Irn, and Jim to Lillian Mayer. 

Thus their married life seemed assured of peace 
from money troubles; and as that is the bane of 
young married people’s existence, the two girls were 
considered unusually fortunate. 

When a mill hand was off duty from illness or 
other cause, Jim took his place, and worked as hard 
as any of his help. Rob was not slow to follow, and 

124 


A Businejss Ente^rprise;. 


125 


so it happened that often the two men were obliged 
to work at night in the mill. 

One night, a little over a year after their mar- 
riage, as Rob and Jim had not returned, both May 
and Lillian retired early, tired out from the sultry, 
rainy day, and uncertain when the men would be 
home. 

Just before sunrise. May was aroused from her 
slumbers by a strange sound, like that of a frightful 
wind-storm. Startled, she leaped from her bed, and, 
hurriedly dressing, went to the door of the cottage. 
There she saw many people as excited as herself at 
the unusual sound. Now it was more like angry 
waves than wind, and for a moment May’s heart 
seemed to stand still; for she thought of the river 
and the mill. Just then a hand was slipped into hers, 
and Lillian’s voice, sharp and harsh with fear, said : 

'‘May, I believe it ’s the river ! Come, people are 
going that way. Lillian was clad in a thin wrapper 
over her night-clothes, and wore bed-room slippers ; 
but she thought nothing of her appearance, for her 
husband was on the island, and if the river over- 
flowed its banks, and the dam gave way, where 
would he be? Terror lent wings to their feet. 

Before they reached the best place to overlook 
the feeder, lights were to be seen in plenty near the 
shore; for the town people were now thoroughly 
aroused. No doubt was now in their minds that it 
was the river ! 

The roaring voice was at hand; the river had 
overflowed its banks, and, in fiendish delight, leaped 


126 


Varie:ty Tai.e:s. 


in torrents into the feeder. Nothing could be done 
until daylight showed the extent of the mischief. 

God, help Rob said May, while Lillian 
cried out to the men : ‘^The bridge is gone ! Could 
we build a raft?” 

The answer was: ^^The water would hurl any 
raft we might make to destruction.” 

May spent her time in prayer ; Lillian in planning 
means of rescue when dawn should kindly lift the 
veil of darkness. 

When at last the sun began to peep from her 
hiding-place in the east, the wives realized more 
fully the terrible disaster that had befallen them and 
their loved ones. 

The mill, being situated on a rise of land, was 
still safe; but the path leading to it was completely 
covered with water. The bridge was gone, and 
triumphant waves dashed higher and higher on their 
road, the end of which meant complete victory for 
the heartless waters, the reaching and destroying of 
the mill. 

“O, they will starve before we can rescue them !” 
cried May. 

Lillian spent no time in tears. 

'Tf the dam above the mill does not give way, 
then they are safe. As for food, why we can put 
that in a pail and throw it across the feeder to 
them!” 

This seemed almost impossible; but it was ac- 
complished by the aid of more than one kindly, 
strong arm. 


A Businjsss Ente^rprise;. 


127 


The husbands could not hear the talk of their 
dear ones, for the waves seemed determined to raise 
their voice higher. So for them there was nothing 
to do but to wait. O, the agony of waiting, when 
there can be seen no light of hope, and death stares 
one in the face ! 

All that day and the next the water steadily rose, 
and help seemed still far away, for all plans of 
rescue had failed. 

''Some way I feel that, whatever happens, Jim 
and Rob will be left us ; but all we can do now is 
to wait,” said Lillian. 

"For what!” sobbed May. 

"For God’s help,” quietly answered Lillian, as 
she finished tying up the pail that contained their 
husbands’ dinner. 

As they approached the river, a strange sight 
met their gaze. Several large trees, pulled up by 
the roots, were tossed over the dam into the feeder. 
One larger than the others had caught between the 
banks, and stayed. 

On this log two figures could be seen creeping 
slowly, by means of it, across the watery grave. 

When first it had caught so strangely, the two 
men had discussed the slim chance of escape. 

"If it slips we are lost ; but it ’s the only chance. 
The dam can not hold out long against the pressure 
of the rocks and trees coming down upon it. It 
may give way at any moment, and then our lives 
would not be worth a straw,” said Rob, and, with 


128 


Varie:ty Tai.e:s. 


a silent shake of the head, Jim agreed to try the 
only chance of escape from death. 

Now they disappeared from sight by the rushing 
waters leaping over the trunk; again they nearly 
slipped into the angry water, for it was very hard 
to stay on the slippery tree-trunk. 

Suddenly, when near the shore, in fact at arm’s 
length from it, the tree slowly began to move, and 
they knew they could go no farther. Lillian had 
planned for just such a mishap, and the men reached 
for the rope flung them by a strong hand on shore. 

Safe on the bank, wet and weary, stood the part- 
ners, and silently clasped hands, but said no word. 
Each understood the meaning of that clasp. 

As each stood with his loved wife at his side, all 
silently watching the raging water, they saw the 
tree over which they had passed, tossed onward as 
if it was no lighter than a leaf. Great tree-trunks, 
following in its wake, were dashed swiftly by. Sud- 
denly there was a roar so horrible that the land 
seemed shaken by its might, and the dam gave 
way. 

“Ah, Lillian,” said Jim, “the mill is gone, and all 
our worldly wealth.” 

“Poverty stares us in the face, that ’s certain,” 
said Rob. 

“O, I do n’t care about poverty,” sobbed May, 
so glad, that she shed joyful tears, “I ’ve got you, 
Rob.” 

“Yes, and some one will help you start afresh, 
and, if necessary, I can get back my position as 


A Busine:ss Ente:rprise:. 


129 


stenographer/' said Lillian. ''So don't you dare 
worry, Jim dear." 

The two men had thought they possessed many 
friends; but although these were extremely sorry 
for their loss, none of them would furnish money 
for them to start anew. 

"O yes," one man said, "I know you 'd pay the 
loan back with good interest if you could ; but some 
other accident might happen, and then where would 
our money be?" He expressed the general senti- 
ment. Such answers filled Jim and Rob with de- 
spair. 

John Adams, an old lover of Lillian, heard the 
news of the wash-out. 

"It was their whole worldly wealth," he said. 
"However, Jim has a fortune left in Lillian. She 
never was a pretty girl, with her freckled face and 
yellow hair; but there never lived a brighter and 
better girl as far as I know women. Had he not 
stepped in my way, I 'd have married her. I won- 
der what she saw in him that I lacked? Well, love 
will not keep them from the poorhouse ; money and 
work must do that. I suppose they can get small 
jobs ; but what a young married man needs is steady 
work. Lillian worked mighty hard before she mar- 
ried, and she needs a rest. Jim seemed a reliable 
and energetic man also, as far as I can find out 
about him, — and Rob Anderson? Well, I know very 
little about him." 

A week later, Rob and May sat in the bright little 


130 


Variety Taees. 


parlor of Lillian’s home while she read aloud a 
wonderful letter Jim had received. 

''Just think of it!” Jim said, when she finished 

reading it ; "he owns the water power in H , and 

land there, and will let us have it free. Then he 
will lend us money to start afresh. He will take a 
mortgage on our new mill, and give us five years 
to pay it off. Think of it, Lillian ; and it ’s all for 
love of you, I know 1 I tell you, I admire a fellow 
who, losing you, shows such a favor to the man 
who robbed him of you. We ’ll pay him back with 
good interest, and have, besides, cake on our table 
at least once a week, instead of hardtack all day.” 

"It ’s a mighty big risk for John to take,” said 
some of the men of the town. "I ’m glad I won’t 
be the loser.” 

A few days later the two families left for the 
town where John owned the water power and a tract 
of land. 

John kept his promise, and lent the money at a 
low rate of interest, taking a security on the yet 
unbuilt mill. 

Within three months a new mill, larger and bet- 
ter equipped than the other, was in working order. 

Lillian suggested that she take charge of Jim’s 
account-books to save him the expense of a book- 
keeper. 

"Everything saved will mean our debt paid 
sooner, and I will enjoy the work very much,” she 
pleaded when Jim protested ; so at last he allowed 
her to do so. 


A. Busine:ss Enterprise. 13 i 

“There is nothing I can do” said May, looking 
almost with envy at her more gifted ftiend. 

“Make a bright, cheery, comfortable home for 
Rob,’' said Lillian. “You 're not made for a busi- 
ness woman, and one book-keeper is enough; so 
cheer up. I tell you what you can do, though ; dis- 
miss your cook, and do your own work ; that is what 
I Ve done. We can not afford help now.” 

Her advice was quickly followed, and so the 
wives as well as the husbands helped towards the 
debt. 

“Years have passed since then,” said Jim, telling 
the story to a number of friends, “but not many 
years, and we have paid the money back with inter- 
est, and you see we have each a comfortable home, 
and Rob has a yard for his baby to play in.” 

“That 's not all, either,” gleefully chimed in Lil- 
lian. “The kindness can never be repaid, but think 
what the money paid and mortgage lifted means 
to us. Why, men, it means this is the real dawn, 
for we four, of a business enterprise that, despite 
the struggle of our first trial in the paper-mill busi- 
ness, has been, and shall be, thank God, a lasting 


SLUMBER-LAND. 


A De:scription. 

I STOOD in dreamland long ago, in the Forest of 
Shadows, on the strange shore of Slumber-land. As 
I looked upon the rich beauty before me, standing in 
its very midst, the soft sunlight smiling here and 
there, and by its side frowning shadows, I was filled 
with a great longing to dwell in this fair place. I 
listened to the rich voices of the forest songsters, 
to the stories told by the dwellers of this strange 
place, which one could so well understand. The 
singing brook and the dainty flowers, robed in their 
brightest gowns, clustered near its side, and were 
stilled into silence by the sweet lullaby and love bal- 
lads the old brook sang. Even the bashful violet 
lifted up its head, and, forgetting itself, looked up 
at the great trees overhead, which rustled their 
leaves in time to the music of the brooklet as he 
danced gayly over the pebbles on his way. One can 
almost see the fairies here and there, dancing in the 
shade of the trees, whose years are well-nigh spent ; 
and the bluebells, as they shake their heads at the 
jokes their friend, the wind, whispers in their ears, 
makes one believe the story that the fairies do dance 
by bluebell chimes. The wild notes, of strange birds, 
the sweet song of a thrush, and the hoot of the blind 
132 


SivTjmber-Land. 


133 


old owl, all tell of solitude, and make one long to be 
free as they, as full of joy and life as are the wild 
songsters of the woods. Into such a place of per- 
fect beauty was born and reared Alpon, the child 
of the forest. 

Alpon was a beautiful child, so it seemed to me. 
His sun-kissed face and dark-brown eyes full of the 
mysterious forest light, and his long dark hair which 
clustered about his face in a free glad way of its 
own, endeared him to me at first glance. 

“Do you live here?’’ asked I of this queer child 
of the Forest of Shadows. 

“Yes,” answered he in music-like tones. “1 dwell 
ever here; it is my home. At night I am always 
busy with strangers who wish to wander here, and 
I lead the way; but it is seldom they come in the 
day-time to this glad dale.” 

“Take me there, little Alpon, sweet forest child,” 
cried I. 

“I will lead you,” he answered, laughing gayly, 
and clapping his brown hands, “to the fairest place 
of all, where the fairies have their midnight feasts 
and dance about the oldest tree of our great wood. 
This tree has not a leaf upon its tired limbs, nor 
has it one green thing at its foot, but the fairies 
come with garlands of flowers, the fragrant rose 
and lily-of-the- valley ; ay, and even the timid violet 
comes with them. Then the whole forest begins its 
music; the grass rustles a low refrain, the brook 
sings, the trees shake their leaves and keep time 
with the song of the birds. Ah ! every kind of bird 


134 


Variety Taees. 


is there; it is the light of our Shadow Forest, this 
fair place/’ 

His freckled face was full of the wild free joy 
of a forest lover, and his laugh rang out like sweet 
music on the fresh clear air of the forest world. 

''There are wild beasts there, but tamed by 
fairies’ love, they harm no one.” 

"But,” continued he, "there is still another part 
of our woods which is dark and dreary ; great 
swamps are there, and the hawk makes it his home. 
Wild beasts dwell there also, but they are not tamed 
by any one, and gladly would they devour all in 
their way. ’T is called the Elves’ Nightmare Land. 
The elves are hideous creatures, and they dance wild 
dances about those swampy places, with thorns and 
weeds about their heads. Ah ! it is a dreadful place, 
where terror reigns supreme. Come, maid, we must 
hasten ; thou shalt choose which path we take.” 

"You do not seem to like that place, Alpon. In- 
deed it is not a pleasant picture you have put before 
my eyes,” I said. 

"I love the place best where together the sun 
and shadow play at tag. This place is my favorite, 
and yet I am so busy guiding people about my land 
I do not have much time here. Choose now, quickly, 
if you care to visit this place.” 

Then I noticed what I had not before : two paths 
led from where we stood. One seemed to go into 
the darkest part of the forest, where, my guide told 
me. Darkest Midnight on her ebony throne, robed 
in blackest gown, reigned alone. The other was 


Si.umb]^r-Land. 


135 


a bright place ; for I could see a light as of the sun 
smiling in the distance. In this light place, Alpon 
told me, on a throne of gold, in robes of fire. Sun- 
shine, happy Queen Sunshine, held her sway. 

Laughing still, we danced together down the 
sunshine path of Shadow Forest, into the great 
Slumber-land. 


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